Saints and Sinners
by Enchantable
Summary: Collection of Ulquihime oneshots
1. Sinners

**WARNING**

**THIS HAS SPOILERS FOR EVERYTHING, INCLUDING THE LATEST MANGA CHAPTERS. **

**IF YOU ARE NOT UP TO DATE WITH THE MANGA THAN YOU ARE GOING TO BE SPOILED.**

**YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.**

**This is a rewrite since the original was deleted. I couldn't find the original. Besides it was a bit awkward so I fixed it. Here you go. **

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They say that while saints have a past, only sinners have a future.

Ulquiorra was sure that he was a sinner, just as he was sure that he had no future. And for a reason that he was completely oblivious to. He believed that whatever he did not see did not exist, believed it, fought by it, lived by it--he was defined by it. Yet when it came to thing that would kill him, he was as blind as, well, as a bat. The irony of the situation threatens to swell up and choke whatever life remained out of him.

That _woman_ was killing him.

The gold that shone in his eyes was killing him. Killing him was perhaps the wrong word. His scientific mind supplied that she was not killing him. No, she was doing something much much worse. She was unmaking him. Whatever he was, whatever essence had followed him through all the painful transformations that had brought him to the state of being the Fourth Espada, Ulquiorra Schiffer, she was undoing. The threads of his being were being slowly pulled apart, one by one. Soon there would be none left, the fabric of his being would be gone. All because of a sunset haired woman that he had never actually viewed as a threat.

He had known she would be trouble the moment she came with him for disgustingly selfless reasons. Then when she had refused to break despite every hateful word he had clubbed her with, he knew. He did not know for sure when she had been defying him. No he had thought of her as being weak, pathetic and disgustingly weak. She was worse than that trash that she defended so blindly. At least that trash had some notion of self-preservation. The woman clearly had none. she was stupid trash. Stupid, selfless trash. _That_ his eye could see and that was nothing his eye cared to see. Perhaps if he had taken better notice he could have foreseen what was happening as a possible outcome.

The part that amused him the most was that even in his most frightening state, there was no fear in her eyes. Resolve, hope, maybe a little anger but there was no fear. Even Kurosaki had looked afraid when he transformed initially and terrified when he had gone to his second form. He was glad he had shattered his mask, it made watching the fear blossom on his face so much more enjoyable. Behind his glasses Ulquiorra could see fear in the eyes of the Quincy. But the woman who should have, by all means, been terrified of him was not. She was glaring at him like she wished that she could find a more painful way to unmake him.

The wings on his back felt like a joke. He knew they weren't really there anymore and for a moment he did mourn the loss. He had enjoyed the feeling of flying, it was one of the things he did enjoy and one of the things he regretted not being able to do in Las Noches. Now of course he could not fly. The fairies that were negating his existence, they could fly. He could see their wings on the outside of the gold shield he was under. He reached up towards the gold shield. His arm felt so incredibly _light_, as though gravity had ceased to exist within the confines of the gold shield he was under. His finger reached for it but it remained elusive.

His entire body felt light, as though everything he was was disappearing. A part of him wished that she had used Tsubaki on him. She was probably furious enough to do it effectively. She had seen him scream at Ichigo. It had been the first time in such a long time that he had an outburst like that. It actually felt--it felt good to scream at _someone_. Usually he felt so numbed, so dead, to feel that sheer infuriation, it felt like an addict being given drugs. He wanted to scream and shout at the top of his lungs again. Even though he could breath, he had a feeling that any sort of vocal ability was long gone. What else was gone? His wings, his vocal chords, probably soon his body would be gone as well.

It was a nice thought that he would linger, in some form, for a while afterwards. He would be the glaring reminder of Kurosaki's failure and of the fact that for once that woman had decided to be something other than helpless. He had captured her when she had been training to be stronger, to help her friends or some pathetic reason like that. But he had taken her before she had been able to show any of that strength. Well here it was, "the violation of the realm of the Gods" in action. Or maybe she was working with the Gods. Ulquiorra had trouble thinking that there was a God who would have allowed him to remain in existence. Where was the God in dealing with the rest of them? Maybe this was all part of whatever plan someone had. If it was he was glad to be finished in it. He was weary of playing such a role anyway.

He allowed his eyes to drift from the fairies controlling the shield over Kurosaki's features still contorted in fear, disgust and confusion. He must be confused by her new strength. Unwillingly Ulquiorra felt amused at the thought. Good, he was glad that Kurosaki was confused. He would have preferred him to be in agony, but confused was a good second. The Quincy seemed to be taking it better but the fear and confusion in his eyes was all about the woman. Ulquiorra knew that neither of them had imagined that she was even capable of something like unmaking him. It was ironic really how little they knew about a woman they were willing to fight monsters to bring home.

They did not know that if she was frightened she slept with her hairpins in or clutched tightly in her hand. They did not know that she slept curled on her side, her back to the door so that if someone came in to spy on her she did not have to see them. They did not know that every tear she shed, every drop of blood she spilled--even what she was doing to him now--it was all for them. She had never taken anything for herself, it was all for her friends. She would go to hell for them but never for herself. It was disgusting really, her lack of self preservation. What was more disgusting was that none of them seemed to realize the lengths she was willing to go for them. If she was going to be pathetic and sacrifice everything, she should at least do it for people who were worthy of such selflessness, not trash like them.

The feeling of floating increased. He could barely feel the hard rock under his back anymore. He heard her inhale sharply, her fingers digging into the gold shield.

"Inoue, maybe you should--" the Quincy began.

"No!" Orihime cut him off, "I'm ending this _right now_."

Ulquiorra had to admire her determination. He had been with her enough to know that she was not going to be conscious for long. Still she stared at the shield, her eyes locked on the gold barrier. Her grey eyes slowly moved until they were locked with his. Ulquiorra stared back at them. They were perfect inverses of each other. He was dark, and cold, his hair plain and his eyes jarring. She was light and warmth, her hair stunning and her eyes rather plain. But still they looked at each other even as white began to cloud Ulquiorra's vision. He saw the sweat bead her forehead as she looked down at him, her body shaking.

"Inoue!"

That wretched shout was Kurosaki's, followed quickly by the Quincy's. Were they both in love with her? It would make sense that they would be slaves to such a pathetic emotion. He knew that woman was more than a little in love with the orange haired idiot who would never deserve such an emotion from her. She really was trash, giving her heart away so easily. Perhaps if she looked after herself a bit more they would not be in this position. Her teeth gritted together as she continued to look at him. The white seemed to swarm up, covering his vision like dust. It felt hard to breath as well, like the dust was getting in his lungs. He felt his chest spasm but coughing seemed to be impossible. Breathing seemed difficult as well. It did not hurt but the lack of control was shattering.

The dust seemed to swell up and consume him completely. He was not drowning, he was floating. Floating far away. The last thing he saw was her determined grey eyes and for some reason, when his own finally faded he was not afraid. Perhaps the anticipation of being unmade was worse than the act of it itself. He was not afraid or in pain or anything really.

He simply exhaled the last bit of air in his lungs and the world went away.

Orihime trembled violently as she held the shield in place. She heard Ishida and Kurosaki calling for her, their voices loud and worried but all she could focus on was the task at hand. Her hand was pressed tight against the shield, otherwise she would have toppled over a long time ago. Cold seemed to creep up her spine as she looked at swirling dust that filled the glowing half moon of her shield. Was that supposed to happen? She did not know. She had never really done anything like this before. She wanted to see the dust settle, she wanted to know that this was finally over.

She wanted to know that she had saved everyone.

Everything it was over, it had to be over. Everyone--everything--it was the end here. The end of all things. Good Bye Halcyon Days. But the dust continued to swirl, covering everything in the glowing half moon. She could not see what was going on strain got to be too much. Against her will the world began to slide out of focus. Her body trembled violently, as if she was the one who should be in there instead of him. Everything it was over, it had to be over. Her hand slipped down the side of the shield as the ground rushed up to connect with her cheek. Orihime's eyes slipped shut before the shield had fully dissipated. All she saw was gold and white before the world dissolved into darkness.

"Kurosaki," she breathed her eyes closing fully.

"Inoue!" Ichigo staggered to his feet, lurching forward on limbs that had no place in moving, "Inou--" he stopped dead in his tracks, adrenaline and shock the only things that kept him upright.

"Inoue," Uryuu breathed, looking at the two figures before him, "what did you do?"

They say that while saints have a past, only sinners have a future. On that day it was clear to everyone gathered there:

There were no saints in Hueco Mundo, only sinners.

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**Just to clarify, Ichigo is behind Uryuu. So those two figures are....**

**Are they dead? Or did Orihime do something else?**


	2. Kyrie

**THIS IS NOT A FOLLOW UP TO THE FIRST CHAPTER**

**Because the chances of Ulquiorra being alive when I come back from Mexico are, uh, slim, I'm on an Ulquihime kick. So this is a collection of oneshots. Now I might, stress the MIGHT, do a follow up to the first chapter but I'm not sure. Please don't wine/cry/complain in the review. **

**Okay so the closest approximation music-wise is Saya's Love off the Blood+ Soundtrack.**

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Orihime was used to people liking her.

She might have been in love with Kurosaki but she knew the rest of her high school class was more than a little in love with her. As someone who had come from parents who did not care about her, Orihime adored caring about people and being cared about in return. If she could bring sunshine to someone's day or make them smile, even if it was just for a moment, she felt happy. She was not that stupid, she knew she was part of a love triangle. She was in love with Kurosaki and she had a feeling that Ishida liked her too. But Kurosaki liked Kuchiki and her feelings for Ishida, they were just of close friendship. Though if she was able to choose, she thought that Ishida would make a good boyfriend.

Maybe that was why she found Ulquiorra so fascinating.

He did not care about her heart or her feelings or any of that. She knew she was an emotional person but no-one had ever said that was a bad thing before. Ulquiorra practically told her it was going to be the death of her. She had always cared so much about other people, even after everything in the world told her it was a waste of time. People needed people to care about them. But Ulquiorra wasn't a person. He had been at one time but not anymore. She didn't know what he was exactly and she supposed it did not matter, not really anyway. When a dead girl was one of your best friends, it tended to open the mind to things previously thought impossible.

She had snuck out of her room on one of those rare occasions when she summoned the courage and there was no-one in the hallway. It was not as though she had a hope of finding her way out of Las Noches. She had a feeling that if she went further than a certain point the hallways would rearrange themselves and she would be back to her room in no time at all. As it was she had left her sandals in her room and slipped silently down the hallway, her feet making no sound on the floor. As she had walked across the floor she heard something coming from a room nearby. She turned her feet to the sound, half expecting the corridors to arrange themselves differently but they did not. She was allowed to follow the sound.

As she got closer she realized it was not just a sound, it was a melody. There was _music_ in Las Noches. Orihime had slid silently along on her socks, praying to whatever would listen that the musician would not hear her. It had been so long since she heard anything but the rattle of the cart or the coldness of Ulquiorra's monotone or her own horrible thoughts. The sounds were all so horrible that the sounds coming now were so wonderful Orihime thought she would weep. But instead she focused on walking forward towards the sound before the corridors rearranged themselves and she did not find out who the source of the music was. Finally she arrived in the doorway and peered around.

He did not see her as she stood nearby, he never saw her except when he had too. She had a feeling for all that he claimed to 'see', he was really quite blind. Since he was her only visitor she had observed Ulquiorra before. What struck her was not his broken helmet or his pale skin or even the tears permanently going down his face. No what struck her were his hands. He had hands like her brother with fingers that were long and elegant. Orihime remembered the day her brother had taken her away. When he had held her hand like a 'big girl' and they had left their life behind. She had felt that she could do _anything_ in the world just as long as his hand was around hers. Her brother had played the piano too, back when they lived with their parents. She would sit for hours and just listen to him play, his long fingers easily reaching notes that her small hands never could.

It seemed the same was true for Ulquiorra.

It made sense that the piano was bone white, like the rest of Las Noches. His fingers were barely distinguishable from the keys as he played. His eyes were closed, as if he were seeing music that the rest of the world could not. His features were not enigmatic either, rather they were furrowed in concentration. A wrong note echoed in the space and his hands hesitated. Orihime pressed herself against the wall, holding her breath while she waited for him to discover her or the notes to start again. The latter happened after a few moments of consideration on Ulquiorra's part. The music flowed just as before, notes rising and falling perfectly. At certain places he would pause, his eyes still closed. But these were not mistakes, Orihime realized, in his mind the piece was not just intended for one instrument. There were many instruments and many parts wherever this piece was supposed to be played, somewhere happier, somewhere far far away from Las Noches.

_Hollows are those who have not moved on._

_Those who cannot move on. _

Orihime's breath caught in her throat as she realized what she was seeing. Ulquiorra was remembering his past, his life before he became a Hollow. Had he been a musician? Or was this just a hobby for him before he had died. The way he played, he obviously enjoyed doing it. The music seemed to be effortless for him, as though this was the most natural thing in the world for him to do. Though he looked human, Orihime had never seen Ulquiorra as such. He was so cold, so alien--even her brother who was half snake seemed more human than the man who was in charge of her. He still didn't look human, he was still Ulquiorra but watching him play he looked somehow different and Orihime found herself wondering.

She wondered if he was always pale. Or maybe his skin was actually tan instead of so white. She wondered if his eyes had been blue green once and maybe he had cried out all the blue when he died. She wondered if he died crying. Maybe his death really was horrible enough that he never ever wanted to feel anything again. Orihime's eyes widened. Maybe today was the day that Ulquiorra died! That would explain the piano playing, even though such an item had little sense in Las Noches. Ulquiorra's fingers continued to dance along the keys, his movements strong and sure as thought this was something that he had done many times before.

Orihime closed her eyes and let the music surge up around her like a rising tide. Only she wasn't drowning, no she was floating. She was laughing and crying at the same time and feeling so _much_ it was like it was the first time she had ever felt, well, felt anything. The music reached it crescendo, the notes wrapping around her and spiraling through her. Finally the last notes were played, the music wavering in the air like it was a living thing. As they dimmed they stayed with her, the feeling stayed with her, as truly great musical pieces tend to do. Orihime kept her eyes closed, her breaths as small as possible, not wanting to do anything to disturb the feeling that swam through her. She wanted to exist in the moment for as long as she possibly could.

Somehow she knew that on the other side of the wall Ulquiorra was doing the same thing, his fingers still on the keys. His eyes were closed as he listened to the orchestra that only he could hear play out the last notes of their parts as well, the music lingering for all to hear. When the final sound had been heard, when the lingering notes had played their course, the audience would erupt into cheers. They would stand and cheer and he would--he would smile and he would bow, though he hated the limelight. She knew Ulquiorra hated attention, any kind of attention. Orihime peered inside. Sure enough he was sitting with his head bowed and his eyes closed, his hands resting on the keys.

When his emerald eyes drifted open she turned and hurried down the hallway, her hand still wound tightly in the white fabric of her top. Orihime decided that later when he brought her dinner she'd eat it without complaint or a fuss.

And she'd never tell that she saw real tears on his face.


	3. La Luna

**This one was inspired by my icon which is this gorgeous Ulquihime image. I found it on photobucket but whoever drew it is wonderfully talented.**

**This takes place in a heavily AU universe where Aizen won and keeps Orihime in Las Noches as his personal 'pet' of sorts with Ulquiorra as her caretaker.**

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The back against her back was wonderfully warm.

Orihime doubted anyone knew how warm Ulquiorra was. She hadn't really thought that he could be. He was always so cold, so hard she just assumed his bone hard skin was unfeeling as he pretended to be. The first night she had shared a bed with him she had found out how wrong she was.

She had been tortured by nightmares since it became clear her stay in Las Noches was far from over. She would awake screaming, her eyes wide and unseeing as she fought to breath. Still her caretaker and protector, Ulquiorra would _Sonido_ to her room and make sure she had not hurt herself or someone had attacked her. Each time he would find her shaking, with tears and sweat running down her face and each time he would wait for her to fall back asleep before he left. When it began to happen multiple times a night, Ulquiorra decided the stress on her was reaching a point where it was unhealthy. When she had woken screaming he had shown up as he usually did but instead of waiting for her to go back to sleep and repeat the process he had sat on the bed before laying down with his back to her. He told her to go to sleep and she had obeyed, her shaking form warmed by the hard, warm back against her own.

The nightmares went away, for a time, though he continued to sleep beside her as a precaution.

It was strictly platonic, their sharing a bed. Though Orihime did not consider him her enemy, he was still her captor technically. But even by that token, the only thing she could think of that would make Las Noches any worse would be for Ulquiorra to _not _be there. So she took comfort in the warm expanse of back pressed against her own. She found it funny still that there weren't any pajamas in Las Noches. She was still wearing her white dress and Ulquiorra was still wearing his usual white cloths, but while he kept his shirt on she had taken off the outer part of her dress with the long cape and sleeves, leaving her in a strapless version of her usual outfit. Orihime was careful when she shifted not to disturb her sleeping protector. She usually slept on her right side as well but given the fact that it was impossible for Ulquiorra to sleep on his left side, she was willing to make the sacrifice. After all, it was not like he could sleep on the side with his broken helmet.

Orihime closed her eyes and pressed herself against the warmth of his back. She was half afraid to go to sleep. She knew Ulquiorra would protect her, even from the nightmares but still, she would have to see whatever her mind had in store for her before he came to save her. As she lay there torn between wishing to go to sleep and fighting to stay awake, she felt the steady rhythm of Ulquiorra's breathing become more agitated. Orihime turned her head to see his body tense and then relax again. Orihime frowned and pushed herself up. The moment her back was not pressed to his Ulquiorra rolled onto his back.

Orihime stared down at his furrowed features. His eyebrows were knitted together, the cyan lines on his cheeks looking like they actually belonged there. His black nailed hands were flexing around the fabric of the sheet as he struggled with whatever demons held him. Even his black lips were pulled in tight, caught between his teeth. Orihime stared. She hadn't really be consciously aware of Ulquiorra's lips. She had been aware that they were black but just as she had wondered about the warmth of his skin she found herself wondering if his lips were as soft as her own. Stubbornly she pushed the thoughts aside. She had to wake up Ulquiorra.

"Ulquiorra?" she tentatively called his name, her hand reaching out to touch his cheek. He inhaled sharply at the touch but gave no sign of waking up.

His skin was odd under her fingers. She didn't think she had ever actually touched him on purpose and certainly not like she was doing now. The rest of him was warm, why should this be any different. The skin was smooth and hard, not really like skin at all. She knew there was a name for the hardened skin of the Arrancar but she hadn't expected it to feel so warm. She could see his emotions plain on his face, even with his skin as it was. It seemed that his blank face was far more a facade for his emotions than anything else. He tried not to express them but he seemed perfectly capable of it.

He was so reluctant to let her touch him. She did not know why but human contact almost seemed to cause him physical pain--and it was not just because the first time they touched was the time she slapped him. No it was more than that. The first time they slept back to back when their spines had touched he had almost jumped at the touch. Even now the first moments of contact were always with him as stiff and rigid as a board. Orihime looked around trying to figure out how she could wake him up. Ulquiorra always managed to wake her up but she did not know how she could do the same for him.

"Ulquiorra," she reached out and shook his shoulder. There was no response, "Ulquiorra--" she sighed and sat back on her heels when his grip on the sheets became white knuckled, "I don't want to do this this time," she said draw back her hand.

She slapped him.

His eyes snapped open instantly, emerald green slamming into slate grey. Almost instantly Orihime found Ulquiorra's face inches from her own, his fingers around her throat. Instantly her neck tightened but there was no pressure against her throat. His green eyes sharped as he looked at her, realizing who she was. His body seemed to relax as much as he ever let it as his hand slipped off her throat.

"You slapped me," he said.

"You were having a nightmare," she said, "I didn't know how to wake you up."

Ulquiorra looked at her palm. Orihime followed his gaze. Her palm was a bright red, without the adrenaline it was stinging sharply as if she had hit a wall instead of someone's cheek. That made sense considering the hardness of her skin. Her palm still stung though. Orihime quickly tucked her hands behind her back. The last thing she wanted was for him to get up and concern himself with her stinging hand. Ulquiorra looked up at her, seemingly surprised that she had done what she did. Orihime felt her cheeks heat up. She didn't mean to smack him, she just had no idea how to wake him up.

For a moment the two of them just sat their looking at each other. She had smacked him but she had woken him up. She had saved him for the first time without being ordered to do so. Since he had come into he room right after she first changed into the white outfit and told her that it 'suited her', Orihime didn't think she had ever felt so awkward around the Espdada. The same odd mix of emotions seemed to be on Ulquiorra's face as well. Though they had been sharing a bed it was necessary for his mission and for her sanity, there was nothing sexual about what they were doing.

Or there hadn't been anyway.

Orihime looked down. She was being foolish. This was Ulquiorra Schiffer, the Espada who was had threatened everyone she held dear and spoken that line she was sure she would remember until the day she died, that infamous "come with me, woman". She had gone with him and up until that moment she had regretted doing so with every heartbeat. But he just had a nightmare, something she had as well and for some reason that seemed to make him just a little more human in her eyes.

"Get some rest woman," he said, cutting whatever spell they were under off.

Orihime nodded keeping her eyes down and laid down. Ulquiorra looked down, wondering what he was supposed to do. She was laying on _his_ side of the bed with her back to him, on her right side. It was a mistake, he knew that but she had gone through the trouble of waking him up. It seemed rather cruel even for him to make her move because of his dislike of physical contact. Besides, Aizen wanted to speak to her in the morning and she needed her rest. Ulquiorra eased himself down so that his chest was at her back. Her eyes were closed but her breathing was irregular showing she was awake. When his chest touched her spine her eyes snapped open.

"Oh! Ulquiorra I'm sorry I didn't realize--"

"Sleep, woman," he said, but his voice was softer.

Orihime nodded. Ulquiorra kept his eyes ahead, making sure he did not stare or startle her. He did not think he was going to get much sleep, not after what he had seen behind his eyes. He swallowed the bitterness in his throat and tried to focus on something else. Orihime's hans were by her head, one palm unblemished and the other bright red. She had smacked him to get him to wake up. He remembered the last time when she had smacked him in anger. Her hand had been just as red back then, he had simply been to indifferent to care. He knew that he could not feel something as weak as her slap, that the tingle in his cheek was just his imagination but it still fascinated him. Her breathing was even and deep, she had fallen asleep. Ulquiorra knew that she was a hard sleeper so, mustering his courage, he reached out his hand and touched the skin of her shoulder.

He could feel _something. _He could feel the warmth, the muscles that he could not see with his eyes but knew were there none the less. She was pale, especially now that she did not see the sun. Not as pale as him though, his skin was bone white to her own complextion. The blackness of his nails was stark against it. His hand flowed from her shoulder, past the edge of her dress to her upper rib cage down to the dip in her waist. Orihime made a soft sound in the back of her throat and shifted against him, her body fitting snugly with his. His hand slipped off her waist to hit the bed in front of her, his arm around her body. His forearm pressed against her waist but she did not seem to mind as her feet tangled against his shins. When he laid his head down fully it was just level with her shoulder.

It was odd how she could still smell like life even after so long down here. But that indescribable scent clung to her, the scent of the world she had left behind. Of blossoms and sunshine and all the bright things he tried to avoid. Now it wrapped around him, enveloping his senses. He could see the doorway past the shell of her ear but most of his vision was taken with her hair. In the mass of the black and white world that they existed in the sunburst bright locks were a strange and not always welcome anomaly. Ulquiorra closed his eyes, just to see if when they were closed he could still see the bright color. Thankfully he could not. His eyes opened but they were heavier this time, like he was being pulled to sleep. Orihime made a soft sound of contentment and Ulquiorra let his eyes close, allowing the feel of her body and the smell of her hair to carry him away.

Neither of them suffered more nightmares that night.

After that they continued to sleep like that, her back pressed against his chest. Though her spine was the only thing touching him when she pretended to go to sleep, Orihime would hold off actually sleeping for a bit. She knew what the signs were of being asleep and she would imitate them perfectly. Sure enough, Ulquiorra's hand would trace her, as if he were making sure she was really there before it would settle on her waist. She could feel his breath against the skin of her shoulder. Though their path was by no means easier, Orihime found herself looking forward to at least one thing. It was odd but if something had happened, an attack or if Aizen kept her most of the day, then he would place himself close to her before he knew she was asleep, as if by touching her he was affirming something that neither of them understood. Orihime did not mind, after days like those she needed the contact just as much, she needed _him_ just as much.

Even if, no, especially if neither of them would admit it.

_You always try to makes sure of something by touching me_

_Even if you get the answer someday_

_Please touch me like this forever and ever_

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**The last lines are from the picture that inspired this piece.**

**Hmm, I don't know, I really like the idea of this where Aizen wins and takes Orihime captive for an indefinite period of time...**


	4. Virtue

**Okay so this has a warning:**

**WARNING THEY MAKE OUT**

**There's nothing explicit (yet) but they do get hot 'n heavy so if that's not your thing, uh, skip this one.**

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Orihime laid her brush down on the table and looked at herself in the mirror.

She did not remember when she came to Las Noches, when Aizen had won and the world had truly changed. She supposed it did not matter, not that much anyway. She could contemplate it all she wanted but she would still be sitting there. She had begun to adjust to Las Noches, something she was not sure if she was happy or sad about. She ate regularly now and her cloths actually fit instead of falling off her. Her hair was getting very long though, she did not think she had ever seen it this long before. With a sigh Orihime continued to brush it. She would have to ask Ulquiorra about where in Las Noches she could get a haircut when he came to her that night.

As if on some cue the door opened and Ulquiorra stepped in. Orihime turned her head to him. He looked as enigmatic and controlled as he usually did. His emerald eyes swept the room for threats as they usually did before coming to rest on her. Orihime set her brush down and stood up. She had already removed the outer part of her outfit and now stood in just the strapless dress underneath. For a moment they stood there rather awkwardly. It was no secret that neither of them understood what they did and neither were able to admit what it meant, just that they were painfully aware that they could not exist without it. Orihime would have likened it to drugs if she had ever done them. But seeing her father, the man whose life existed only in the dark liquid he poured down his throat, Orihime had never seen the sense in trying one of the things that had destroyed her family.

As for the other...

Orihime didn't know if this was infidelity to her friends or something else entirely. Maybe it was, maybe it wasn't. She didn't know who was alive or dead, not really anyway. If they were alive she hoped they were somewhere safe, and if they were dead she hoped that even more. But she could not leave this place, not if she wanted everyone to stay safe. As time went on and the cool walls and endless night became more and more familiar, she wondered if she even _could_ leave this place. She did not know and as time went even further on, when she thought about such things the traitorous little voice in her mind would ask in her heart of hearts if she even _wanted_ to leave this place. She would of course say in a heartbeat but her convictions about that were less and less. She wanted to leave this place and at the same time, she did not know if she would, could, should--she had no idea. She tried not to dwell on such thoughts.

Her days were so busy now that usually they only came up when she was alone, at night.

And that was no longer a problem.

She walked over to Ulquiorra who remained where he was Even after the time they spent together he was still not comfortable with human contact but as time went on Orihime could see him start to want it, despite the discomfort. When she got within an arm's length of him she reached out, her fingers brushing against the warm, hard surface of his cheek. There was no give under her fingers like there would be if his own were to bush her cheek. It was like running her fingers across sun warmed stone. The cyan lines that fell from his eyes were indistinguishable from the rest of him, not raised like burns or sunken like cuts. Her fingers trailed from his cheek to his ear and down to the back of his neck, his midnight hair slipping easily through her inquisitive fingers. He tensed when her fingers touched his neck, though they both knew that it would be impossible for her to strangle him.

Her fingers touched the zipper of his jacket, slowly pulling it down, just to the point where his Hollow Hole was exposed. Her fingers rested at the base of the empty darkness. Orihime had noticed that the Hole had steadily been making its way towards his heart. But as she spent more and more time with him, the movement seemed to have halted. Orihime's fingers lingered against the infinite blackness as her eyes considered the space almost sadly. it took only a moment of the sadness before Ulquiorra's fingers slipped under her chin and guided her head. Orihime let her eyes close, his breath teasing the skin of her cheek before his ebony lips were upon her own.

Though his lips were as hard as the rest of his skin, kissing them was not like kissing a statue or a dead thing, kissing him was--it was wonderful. His lips were warm as they pressed against her own pink ones. He was always gentle when he touched her, as if he was afraid that she would break or disappear. His kiss was gentle as well, even as her lips parted under his and his tongue slipped into her mouth. It was odd but Ulquiorra's tongue was as pink as her own. She had asked him the color one day and he had looked at her like she was crazy before indulging her as he usually did. It seemed that even though their outsides were different, a lot of their insides were the same. When she slept, that moment right before she woke up when the world was still heavy and dark and completely at peace--if that time had a taste that taste would be Ulquiorra.

Orihime inhaled sharply as his lips left hers with a final lingering press before moving to the bare skin of her neck. His hand slipped through the heavy length of her hair, sunset strands tangling like notes around bone white fingers. The feel of his lips against her skin was one that Orihime knew she would always crave. She had been kissed by other boys but their kisses had been wet and sloppy. One had left an angry red mark on her neck that had her hiding behind scarves and turtlenecks despite the June heat. With Ulquiorra, though his lips were harder than anyones they were a thousand times more gentle as they trailed along her skin. Her other hand was still in the cradle of his palm and she found her hand turning against the skin, desperate to give his lips more skin. His breath sent chills down her shoulder as his other hand slid down from her cheek.

He always kissed the right side of her throat, always stopping before his helmet could brush her skin. Her fingers always twined through the hair on the side of his head that was uncovered. She had seen him with the helmet complete and she had seen him without it at all, the two phases of his transformation. She was not afraid of him in this form but in that form, in that form he seemed to become something else. That form was the form she would always _always_ remember him slaughtering people in. Orihime squeezed her eyes tighter, trying to push the memories aside. Her body pressed tightly against his own form, her body language saying what her words could not.

It did not matter, Ulquiorra understood her perfectly.

When she pushed him down onto the bed he let her. It was an odd feeling not being in control and though in some ways he did mind the oddity of the situation, he had long ago accepted the fact that rules did not apply in this room. So when she pushed him back and tangled their fingers together, he went along with it. Her legs rested on either side of his body, high enough to deny the full contact that would come later. When she bent over him she was higher above him, her hair falling around his face like a wave. Even in Hueco Mundo, in Las Noches, her hair smelled like berries. There was a time when that scent would have made him ill. Now though he found it to be almost pleasant. Her colors surrounded him, life and light robbing the dark and desolate in which he existed.

Her lips were soft when they touched the tear marks on his face. His skin was hardened to the point where actual feeling, feeling like he had once--like she did now--it was virtually impossible. But he could feel the silk of her lips against the tears etched on his face. He could feel them as she kissed both lines before her lips came to settle against his, her tongue slipping into his mouth with comfort and ease. Ulquiorra vaguely remembered going to a carnival, sometime before he became what he was. He barely remembered the carnival itself but he remembered the fluffy cotton candy that had been bought for him. That taste he remembered through everything and when he kissed her he tasted it again. It was impossible really, her diet was carefully controlled and he doubted the Arrancar were prone to sneaking in sweets but she tasted like cotton candy, like spun sugar.

She drew back and he opened his eyes, the grey of her own meeting his emerald ones. Through the light streaming through the curtain of her hair Orihime could see the bright color of Ulquiorra's eyes and the tear marks slipping down his cheeks. Her finger reached out and traced the path that her lips had made. Ulquiorra remained still as she did it, her hand finally coming to rest on his lips before she braced her weight on her palms, her body still over his. She reached up and brushed her hair over so that instead of covering the side of his head with the helmet it covered the side of his head that was bare. Her fingers reached out and touched the hard surface, surprised at how bone cold it was. Her fingers touched the tip of the horn as his emerald eyes continued to watch her.

"Are you scared, woman?" he asked finally, his voice breaking the silence that had blanketed the room since he entered. Orihime felt herself smile at the familiar questioned and looked down at him.

"Not of you," she said lowering her lips to his once more.


	5. Ninth Circle

**This is in response to the latest Manga chapter. **

**WARNING:**

**This is very very dark and graphic. **

**The tense is a bit weird too but I wanted to try something new. **

**

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Somewhere

Somewhere she can hear the distant echo of her heart

_Ba-bump_

_Ba-bump_

_Ba-bump_

It is one of those _moments_, the ones where the world seems to slow down. Where it seems to stop completely and all Orihime can do is inhale and exhale. Just keep breathing. She can do that. In and out. Ignore the tinge of smoke, the smell of dust, ignore it all. Just breath. In and out. In and out. She cannot control the rhythm of her heart, she cannot control the fact that her eyes are so wide, stretched so impossibly huge that she feels like her eyelids will get stuck. That is out of her control. But she can breath. Breath in and out. Inhale fill the lungs, exhale and the air goes rushing out. She took a Yoga class with Tatsuki once and the teacher was adamant. You had to remember to breath. Even when you were twisted like a pretzel you had to remember to breath.

So she breaths.

Even though Kurosaki looks more like a halloween nightmare than someone who was once alive. She knows she can violate the realm of the Gods but even she doesn't think she can heal that. Its impossible to tell where limbs were or where they are now. Its just a mass of red and black and bright bright orange. She thinks Ulquiorra left the orange there on purpose, just so that everyone would _know_ he was the one who killed Kurosaki Ichigo, the one they had placed all their hopes in. She prays thats not true, that they weren't as foolish as her. Her heart was with her friends but it always beat for him. Now though, now there's no him but she can still hear her heart. She does not understand how that is possible.

She does not dare to look at Ishida. Poor Ishida who always loved her but who she never loved back. She doesn't look at Ishida because while Kurosaki is a nightmare he is a tangle of white. White bones, white skin, white fabric. She does not know where all the red in him has gone but all he is is white. She cannot look at that, not at the fallen Quincy. At least Kurosaki knew she loved him. Ishida just thought she was using him. Ishida who made an elevator to take them to his death. He came all the way to save her and she couldn't even love him back. She got him killed when there was no reason to die. Even though that happened her heart still beats, her breath still comes. She is numb from tip to toe but she still is alive and that seems to be just as wrong as everything else. Finally though her eyes catch him.

He is standing there when all the others have fallen. She always thought that Ulquiorra had more to him than she thought. But she had always considered it was emotional, not power. But now she realizes that it is both. There is more to him than she ever can or ever will understand. Its just her and him on the roof surrounded by shattered dreams and waking nightmares. He looks like he belongs with the latter but somehow she knows the image of Kurosaki looking like _that_ will be far more haunting than the face of the man who killed him. He stands there, his tail whipping back and forth like a predator as he looks at her from across the distance that only feels vast.

He steps forward on one of those awkwardly clawed feet as if its the most natural thing in the world. She looks down at them and then at his wings. Why is he walking when he can fly? He looks so _different_. No helmet, not white garments, not really that much white at all. Just black and black and black going on until she can see no more. Perhaps its the adrenaline or the shock going through her but she finds it odd that Ulquiorra is in pants. They're fur or a part of him or something she doesn't understand but they're not the wide white garment that she's used to seeing him in. His hands are clawed as well, black snaking up them like gloves. The lines on his face are bolder, wider as if he is crying more now that he is in his monster form. His eyes are changed as well, they are black now where they should be white and white where they should be green.

He stops in front of her, looking down at her with his tail still whipping back and forth. His movements have been as slow and controlled as they usually are when it comes to her. After seeing how fast he moves Orihime cannot understand why he would do that for her. Even his wings tuck neatly behind him like he tends to tuck his hands into his pockets. Finally his tail stops whipping back and forth, it coils upwards above him and comes to rest right in front of her. But it does this with the same slow speed that he seems to reserve just for her. Orihime hears her heart echo and her breath catch. She is painfully aware of her torn garments, the shivers racing through her and the sweat that stands out start on her brow. The curved edge of his tail glints with the same malice as the claws on his wings and hands and feet do. The malice that shines everywhere.

Everywhere but his eyes.

He looks at her, his eyes white instead of green and his back lips part, the lines on his face big enough to move when he speaks as the hardened skin pulls to allow him to form words. She cannot hear him over the echo of her heartbeat or the massive amount of effort it takes for her to draw in air. This is a nightmare. This has to be a nightmare. But Ulquiorra wakes her up during nightmares. He claims she makes too much of a fuss and if she gets sick then she will not be of use to Aizen. But Ulquiorra isn't shaking her. She's not in her white room with her emerald eyed protector. She's on the plane of nightmares with a creature she doesn't recognize. She cannot understand what he is saying but this is a dream, she's not supposed to understand right? If she replies when Ulquiorra comes he'll just chide her for her foolishness.

Then the clawed hand touches her.

Its ebony and hard but the fingers are flexed so they simply lay on her skin instead of flaying it. Orihime chokes on her air and staggers back, the claws digging into her skin as she looks at the creature in front of her. When she drops to her knees the claws dig into her skin and leave four very long lines and one very short one on her shoulder blade that will be there forever. Her fingers bury themselves in her hair as her wide, unseeing eyes stare at the ground in front of her. The clawed foot is there in her viewpoint so she shuts her eyes tightly and shakes her head back and forth, desperate for the nightmare to end. Her fingers touch the fair hairpins but the words cannot come from her lips.

She's having a nightmare. She's having a nightmare even though she can smell the burned flesh. She's having a nightmare though she can feel the blood staining her white dress. Now she's white and red and orange just like them. This has to be a bad dream. Orihime shakes her head harder as if she can shake the nightmare away. Where is Ulquiorra? Where is he? Where is he to wake her up and scold her in that cold way of his for being such a nuisance? Why is this happening like it is? Its not fair, not fair at all and she cannot understand what is going on. She does not _want_ to understand.

_Ba-dump_

She just

_Ba-dump_

She just wants to wake up

_Ba-dump_

"ULQUIORRA!!"

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**Wow okay so I don't think I've done something so juvenile as using caplocks but I wanted to show her desperation.**

**Oh and if that was in any way unclear, she thinks she's in a nightmare and she's screaming for Ulquiorra because he usually wakes her up. She doesn't really get that THATS Ulquiorra. **

**Just in case you were confused. **


	6. Songs of Innocence

The hard surface under her cheek was the first thing Orihime became aware of.

She remembered hands pulling at her, trying to take her away from Las Noches. She was Aizen's 'witch', not that she had much choice in the matter. Aizen was King now, King of everything, he was God. Orihime's power had a place in Aizen's new Soul Society. But these people had tried to kidnap her and they had succeeded. They had come to her room, they had touched her and torn her cloths and then they pressed a cloth to her mouth and she had known no more. Furrowing her brow Orihime tried to force her eyes open but found it impossible. Her eyelids felt like they had been weighed down. Finally though, after much effort she was able to open her eyes.

The world had been turned on its side. She saw men being thrown about like rag dolls. She knew she should be able to hear them screaming but her ears were ringing. She couldn't hear anything and everything she could see seemed to be blurred. She couldn't move either. Perhaps if her ears weren't ringing and her eyes were focusing she would realize that she was drugged. As it was all she could do was lay there and watch the men die slow, agonizing deaths. She didn't feel any sympathy for her captors as she watched them die, how could she when they had kidnapped her like she was just a prize to be won? She hoped whoever was rescuing her didn't drop one of their bodies on her, that would probably hurt a lot--if she could feel pain at all. Her thoughts were disjointed at best, chaotic and rather odd.

Poor Ulquiorra, he'd never admit it but he'd probably be besides himself with worry. Aizen had charged him to be her protector, her guard in the unstable regime. After he had killed her friends she couldn't look at him for a month without being ill, something that was exceedingly hard to do considering she barely spent a moment outside his company. Every time she saw him she would see the black fur and wicked tail that held Kurosaki high up even as the black clawed hands blew a hole through his chest. But that horrible image was not the one she saw in front of her when she was with Ulquiorra, not with her real eyes anyway. He was the chalk pale Espada who made sure that when all was said and done she was alive. He never apologized for his actions and she never asked him too, she would never forgive him and forgiveness was not something that he craved--especially not from her.

But he was still there.

Even when the sight of him made her ill he was there. Aizen refused to assign her someone new, probably to make sure that she knew that everything wasn't a nightmare. When she got sick from the stress he was there by her bedside with medicine, food and tissues. When she recovered he was there on every mission that Aizen sent her on. When she was no longer sick in his presence he was still there, just as he had always been. He never spoke more than he had too and she never asked him questions. But his presence was always _always_ there and somehow she found herself adjusting to the white skinned emerald eyed man who acted as her guardian. He never took that form in front of her again. If he was forced to release his Zanpakto she always closed her eyes and he always finished the job quickly before returning to her as his usual self.

Somehow along the way, almost against her will, she had begun to learn about him. She knew he was right handed but could manage a legible scrawl with his left when he broke three fingers blocking a strike once. She learned that when he was nervous or angry or beyond frustrated he would sigh and his bottom lip would indent just enough for her to see that he was biting the inside of it. When he pulled out his eye, it didn't hurt him at all but he found it annoying all the same. But the strangest facts were the ones she found herself actually intrigued by. For one he was horrible with chopsticks, as if he wasn't used to using them at all. She knew he had read every book in Las Noches and was in the process of re-reading his favorites. He knew what an ipod and a juice box and all the other modern things were, as though he kept track of such things. And once, just once, when she had hummed the last thing she heard on the radio before she left he had not only told her the band that played it but also that she was flat. She discovered that while healing him was hard, it wasn't impossible--it was just made harder by the fact that Ulquiorra was actually horrible at sitting still with nothing to do but lay under the gold light of her fairies.

The unoccupied air in front of her was suddenly not so. Orihime tried to force her eyelids closed but they would not obey her. He stood there in his full release, his tail holding the quaking man high above his head with all the ferocity of a demon. His wings were spread wide in predatory instinct as his clawed fingers flexed for a moment before he plunged his fist strait through the man's chest. Red spilled from the man's lips before his body disappeared in a burst of dust. Orihime still felt the detachment from the world around her as she watched him brutally murder the man. His tail remained there for a moment before it went behind him, whipping back and forth. It was so very long, if he didn't keep it in motion Orihime imagined that it'd drag on the ground and it would get dirty.

He turned around and locked eyes with her, the black and white of his eyes jarring. Orihime forced herself to remember that his eyes were emerald usually. With steps that were almost graceful, Ulquiorra walked over to where she was laying. His wings were pulled in but not by much. Orihime wondered why he was not just turning back into his usual form like he usually did. Finally he stood in front of her and bent down. Orihime shied away as one of the clawed appendages reached for her but it came anyway. Suddenly she could move her wrists as the bonds she hadn't even realized she had been wearing were cut. His hands moved to her ankles, his claws cutting through whatever bound her with surprising ease. Finally one came towards her face. Before she could move the claw ran down the side of her face. The gag that had covered her mouth and crushed her ears was severed and fell away.

"Are you alright, woman?" he demanded, his voice tense instead of its usual cool. His tail was whipping back almost anxiously as his white eyes examined her for any sort of injury.

"You're not changing back," she whispered, not daring to move though she was unbound.

"We're high up," he said, his eyes sweeping over her body for any injuries with familiar ease.

They were going to have to fly.

Orihime's stomach dropped in response as she gingerly pushed herself up. The world lurched as the arm that was supporting her buckled. Before she could hit the ground again her head fell against something warm and firm and black. It took Orihime's fogged mind a minuet to realize that it was Ulquiorra's arm. Her head fit snugly into the crook of his elbow as his hand grasped her shoulder, the clawed fingers she had seen rip so easily through people just laying on her arm. Orihime looked up into his white and black eyes. She had seen that same look of quick concern in his emerald ones as well. She recognized it now, even though his eyes were white instead of green and the whites were black instead of white. The lines on his face were different too. They were above his eyes as well as below hadn't noticed that before. Ulquiorra's eyes tore from her face as his other hand slipped easily under her knees.

"I'm scared of heights!" Orihime blurted out, desperate to keep some part of herself on the ground. The look of frustration that flared in Ulquiorra's eyes was familiar as well.

"Woman they have some kind of barrier up," he said, his voice frustrated, "I cannot _Sonido_ out of here. With my power I can get through it but we are going to have to fly."

"But--" she began.

"I will not let you fall, woman," he said looking down at her.

Orihime looked up at him.

Then they were airborne.

With a shriek Orihime buried her face in Ulquiorra's shoulder and threw her arms around his neck as the ground vanished in a dizzying blur. His skin was as warm and hard as it always had been, the blood that seemed to come from his Hole not staining her dress. He smelled like Ulquiorra as well, that smell that she was sure she would never fully be able to describe. Cold and dust and dead were in it but there was more. He smelled like earth, like stone, like all the unmovable things in the all-too unstable world. His hands remained around her as his wings caught a current of air and they were dragged upwards. He gave no indication that her death grip on his neck was any sort of hindrance or that flying with a passenger was hard at all. He continued to hold her as they swept over the grounds where she had been taken.

Cautiously Orihime opened her eyes and peered out from his chest like a child peering from behind her mother's skirts. They were up high, so high she couldn't see the ground if she looked strait ahead.. Just the endless night of Hueco Mundo. With a thick swallow, Orihime turned her head fully to the night sky. Below them the white sand desert of Hueco Mundo was all around them, dunes sloping and rising like wrinkles in a sheet. The crystal trees were small and spindly but from their height they seemed to sparkle in the moon. Orihime looked upwards as well. The stars were just as distant but they were set like jewels in the inky sky. And the moon, the moon was huge, like the biggest jewel of them all. It shone pure white across the landscape

Orihime's hands slowly relaxed from their death grip around her protectors neck. She hadn't even realized that they had broken through the barrier that held them in the place where she had been taken too. Orihime pushed her hair back behind her ears and turned her face into the wind, looking out at the landscape. Every once in a while he would catch a current of air and they would glide effortlessly but otherwise she could feel Ulquiorra's muscles working as his wings kept them air born. Smoothly they began to descend onto the white sands of Hueco Mundo. Finally they landed next to a tree, the claws on Ulquiorra's feet digging into the soft sand behind them.

"Hold onto the tree," he said.

Orihime reached out and grasped the crystal surface as Ulquiorra set her upright. Her legs were still weak but as long as she held onto the tree she found she could stand.

"W-we're not back yet," she said, though she sounded foolish for saying such a thing. They were in the middle of the desert, of course they were not back at Las Noches yet.

"I will take you back, woman," he said stepping back from her, "but using _Sonido_ in your current state might have a negative effect. We are going to have to continue to fly."

He began to change then. His horns shortened and formed the full helmet atop his head. His body changed as well, the black fur disappearing as his familiar black boots took their place. His Hole shrunk as well until it was small again. His tail vanished as his hair shorted slightly. The white robe he wore in his first state of release materialized out of seemingly nowhere. When he was in his first release state he walked back over to her.

"You changed back," she said.

"I do not want my Spiritual Pressure to alert the rest of Hueco Mundo," he said.

Orihime nodded, remembering that she was the only person living who knew of Ulquiorra's secondary release form. He still refused to tell Aizen about it or to let the rest of the Espada know. In fact, the only time he had used it was when someone threatened to take _her_ away. Gingerly Orihime moved her arms from the crystal and looped them around Ulquiorra's neck. One of his hand,s bone white with its familiar black nails, was at her shoulder while his other went under her knees. With the cut of his robe part of his chest was covered but his warmth still seeped through the fabric. She was painfully aware of her own torn garments and very happy that he was so warm. Their takeoff was just as gentle this time as Ulquiorra kicked off the ground and caught an upward draft with his wings. A few strong beats and they were flying just as they had been.

"Why do your eyes change?" she asked him, "they're green now. But then, when you're in that form, they're white and black."

"I--" he looked down at her before looking ahead, "I can take that form thanks to the Shinigamification. My eyes altering in color is another affect of that, it occurs with the Vizards as well."

"I remember their eyes used to change," she said leaning her head against his shoulder, suddenly sleepy.

"Close your eyes woman," he said, "we'll be home soon."

"I don't wanna miss the flying," she said fighting to keep her eyes open, "Hueco Mundo is so pretty up here."

"You need your rest woman," he said as a draft pulled them upwards, "this will not be the last time I have to fly with you."

Orihime nodded sleepily and let her eyes close.

"Hey, Ulquiorra?" she inquired.

"Yes, woman?"

"Are you worried people can see up the bottom of your robe when you fly?" she asked, "you're all covered in your other forms but now--"

"I'm wearing pants, woman."

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**Oh like you weren't wondering!**

**I wanted to leave you all with something a bit more lighthearted. **


	7. La Vita Nuova

**This is a FOLLOWUP to NINTH CIRCLE**

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All his actions until this moment have been orders.

Kidnap the girl, Ulquiorra.

Make sure Grimmjow doesn't kill the boy, Ulquiorra.

Protect Las Noches, Ulquiorra.

He does them with robotic grace, with commitment that can come only from one who has seen and understands the consequences of disobedience. He has followed orders and he has accomplished his tasks. Aizen is a good leader, he is like a man playing chess. He knows what every piece can do, good and bad, and he knows how to move them around the board accordingly. It would not surprise Ulquiorra in the least if a few of the deaths had been necessary sacrifices to Aizen's eyes. There is someone moving him across the board and in a way, Ulquiorra finds that to be forgiving. It is Aizen's hand that moves him, Aizen's hand that makes him do these things. What is there to feel guilty about when he is nothing more than a piece on a chess board.

Or he was anyway.

Now as he wipes the scarlet that Quincy spat off his face, he realizes that he has gone rogue. He did not need to reveal his second form to them. He could probably have ripped Kurosaki into such tiny pieces in his initial release. He knows that destroying the Quincy's form, well that he could have probably done without even going to his first release. Perhaps the amount of damage that he did to the two of them was rather excessive but it was necessary. That _woman_ had to know that this was over. He had tried to show her, he had tried to imprison her but it was clear the only way to make her see was to take everything she held dear and to shatter it. He wanted to rip Kurosaki Ichigo into shreds but still, he found little joy in the action. It was necessary to the mission and that immediately detracted from the joy. But it was still nice to know that there was absolutely no way in hell that the orange haired idiot could pull his fragments together and come and kick his ass.

Now to deal with that woman.

On the chance he wins, Aizen's no idiot. He knows there are advantages to having a Queen and Halibel is far too violent to fill that position. But a woman with the hair like sunset and the powers of the Gods, she has Queen written all over her. Well not now, not with her eyes wide and her body shaking like a leaf but that is a temporary state. Aizen released her to her friends but her friends are now dead and by default she goes back to them. Until he hears otherwise he is still her captor, her guard, her protector. Aizen will be less than thrilled about the torn garments--hell _he's_ less than thrilled about them. The last thing he needs is to be seeing more of that creme skin of hers. He has to get her inside and he has to change back into his initial release. But it looks like her grip on reality is waning and he knows that he's got to get her inside before anything else.

It awkward to walk on his clawed feet but he knows that flying will just frighten her more. The last thing he needs is for her to throw herself off the edge of the building and for him to have to explain to Aizen why she's unconscious. So he walks over to her on his feet, making sure to over ride his instinct to spread his wings in a show of disgustingly animalistic desire. He might look like an animal in this form, he might feel more in this form but he is neither an animal nor a primal being. He controls, controls _controls_ everything about himself and everything the world will let him. He will control this woman in front of him for as long as Aizen lets him. He has shattered her hope, her dreams, everything she clings too with that foolish, useless heart of hers.

Then she looks up at him.

By now he knows to expect a degree of unpredictability when dealing with this woman and her friends. After all she slapped him that one time and Ichigo actually managed to land a few decent hits on him. But when she looks up at him what he sees in her grey eyes actually freezes him. He has seen that look before, somewhere he could not place. But this look, this terror and sadness, it is so familiar and it is so heartbreaking that he actually _feels_ something. Something far more acute and far more deep than any physical wound. And just like that he feels disgust churn through him. He is her protector and he has caused her harm. He wanted to show her that the hope she clung to was crap but somehow he got caught up in his own selfish desires and he disobeyed his mission, his mission that is her and her well being.

"Woman," he sighs her name, his voice still the same even in this form. She continues to stare at him vacantly. Actual concern--for the mission, not the woman--weaves through him and he reached out, his hand grasping her shoulder. She's always responded to physical contact, even if he has made sure that theirs is as limited as can be, "woman," he says her name sharper.

She reacts this time but instead of rationally, she staggers back. Its instant as one moment his claws are laying on her and the next they are buried inside her flesh. It should feel no different, human is human is human but for some reason this _does_. it feels different to have her blood flowing down his fingers. She sinks to her knees before he can pull himself free and he feels his razor sharp claws slide up inside her. Her flesh parts under his fingers as if its nothing, each of his claws leaving a deep bloody line that will scar her forever. She sinks to her knees and buries her fingers in her hair, unaware that his hand has run its course and pulled free but remains extended, her blood dripping from between his claws.

He has marked her.

He looks down at the hysterical woman. Her hands are buried in her hair and she's shaking her head back and forth like she's trying to get rid of a bad dream. Its hits him what she's about to do. But for all his speed, for all his power he cannot move to stop her. He knows that the one who wakes her from her nightmares is _him_. The one who chases away the other Espada, the Arrancar, anyone whose trying to hurt her is _him_. The one who protects her even from herself is _him_. He can do nothing as she squeezes her eyes shut and screams for the one that has been her protector through all of this.

"ULQUIORRA!!"

The desperate shout of his name is enough to drop his hand. His tail hits the ground as he stares at the woman in front of him who has doubled over, her body shaking with sobs as she begs for her protector to save her from this nightmare, unaware that he is the one who has put her in this position. Its easy to drop to the first of his releases, his power level dropping as fast as the sensation in his stomach. There is no logical reason to take his first form. They are on top of a building but Sonido could take care of that. Just like that his helmet breaks and reforms, his wings disappear as his cloths come back on his body. _Mercielago_ seals his forms and secrets away as it returns to his side. She continues to sob and shake but somehow the weakness he always found pathetic is actually justified at the moment.

"Woman," he says her name, his voice dull and echoing to his ears.

"U-Ulquiorra?" her tear filled eyes look up at him, revealing the shattered woman who is held together only by her physical body. Bile rises to the back of his throat at the sight of the innocent hopefulness that plays in her eyes. He feels his own narrow but he bends down anyway, "I had a--" her lips fall silent. Bent down she can _see_. She can see the orange and the white and the black and all that ruby spreading around the roof, "a dre--"

"No dream, woman," he says, his voice cold and practical as the hope flees, "your friends are dead. Didn't I tell you caring about them was pointless?" he demands getting to his feet.

"They can't be dead," she gasps shaking her head, "no no no," she touches her fairies, "I can heal them," she says but when she tries to push herself up her legs won't work, "I can fix them!"

"Woman stop being ridiculous," he says, frustration lacing his tone, "your friends are dead and you cannot help them. I am not wrong or lying to you. You can see it with your own eyes."

"You killed them!" she cries suddenly turning her grey eyes to him.

He isn't sure how she manages to walk on legs that are more rubber than bone but she staggers forward and her fists slam into his cheek. He feels her knuckles tear on the bone of his helmet as her hands slam anything they can. He can barely feel it but she seems to need to hit _something_. So he lets her pound against him. She's torn and bloody already, at least the blood on her knuckles will be justified. He feels the scarlet stain his shirt, stark against the white fabric but he does not move. Her punches waver in their force until both her hands pound his chest in synchronization before they bury themselves in the white of the garment and she begins to sob in earnest.

He looks down at her with an odd sense of detachment. She had been hitting him and he knows she hates him but now she is sobbing against him, clutching him like he is the only thing real. He tells himself the hands he places on her are to steady her, to make sure that she does not fall and hurt herself further. The fact that one is around her shoulders and the other is at her waist is just because those are two points good for stabilizing people. He is not hugging or comforting her. She can hate him all she wants, it is not like he wants her to forgive him. He is just glad that crazed hopefulness is not in her eyes anymore. Nor that vacancy. for a moment he thought he broke her. He does not wonder why that bothers him.

The hand that is at her waist goes under her knees as he pulls her sob-wretched form against his body.

"Wh--" she cannot speak.

"We are going back to Las Noches," he says, "There is nothing for you here."

"How do you know?!" she cries pulling back to glare at him, her grey eyes huge with tears, "the others--"

"They will be dead soon as well," he tells her knowing it to be the truth. A small handful against an endless army? Besides he imagines they will know of their friends death and grief will cripple them as well.

"I believed in them," she says the words hollowly, with the shock of a child that has just found out Santa is nothing more than their parents, "I believed in them."

"You were foolish woman," he scolds her. She nods meekly, "relying on others will bring you nothing."

"You're still here," she whispers.

"I am ordered to be here," he tells her.

"But you're still here."

He takes her away from the nightmares and back to Las Noches to wait for the next orders to come.

_Still here._

He has no reply for the sense in her words.

* * *

**Okay so I've gotten a few questions as to what the titles of the chapters are.**

**"Saints and Sinners" refers to a quote by Oscar Wilde.**

**"Kyrie" refers to a type of music that is often played in church, its also a prayer.**

**"La Luna" means 'The moon' in Spanish which is a reference to "Las Noches" which means 'The Nights' **

**"Virtue" obvious and a play on the thing that they're doing which is obviously NOT virtuous.**

**"Ninth Circle" refers to 'The Divine Comedy' by Dante Alighieri **

**"Songs of Innocence" refers to one of the two books "Songs of Innocence and Experience" which is a collection of poems by William Blake.**

**"La Vita Nuova" is also by Dante Alighieri and tranlates to "the new life"**


	8. Yin

**Title: Yin --this is the shadowy or dark side of Yin-Yang. In the Taijitu, the Yin-Yang symbol everyone knows, this is the dark.**

**The significance is obvious since this is the dark part of the story which progresses to the light or the Yang. Also because this part takes place at night when everyone is supposed to be asleep. **

**Oh and yes, the tense starts out different. You'll see why.**

**

* * *

**

They win the war.

Its no surprise that they win. Good guys win and bad guys loose, its a fairy tale fact but its a fact none the less--something that has been proven in Orihime Inoue's life many many times. The good guys and bad guys seem to shift and change but when the battle happens its clears whose good and whose bad. It makes the fighting easier, she supposes. The traitors are clear even if Kaname Tousen was blind in more ways than one and redemption seemed to sparkle just out of reach of Gin Ichimaru's boney fingers. Them and the man who would be God are dead and gone, dust to dust and ashes to ashes or something like that.

As they fall and friends find friends, lovers find lovers and the world learns it can breath again, Orihime feels--

She fells nothing.

Detachment if detachment is something one can feel. The closest she can think of is when she got thirsty once on a long walk on a holiday. Everything was closed and the nearest place she could go for water was her house but it was far away. Still she walked, her mouth feeling like there was no moisture in it. That feeling, times a thousand, seems to have taken over her soul. She cannot feel the joy that is showing on her face or the laughter that spills from her lips. Its an empty gesture, a show she puts on for her friends who are too overjoyed to notice her silent screams. Ishida might, she's always had the feeling that Ishida knows her a bit better than anyone else but shy Ishida won't say anything. He might inquire if she is alright and his eyes might linger on hers but he will accept her answer and let her go. He will not demand the truth from her.

Orihime continues to feel nothing. Not as Kurosaki, the boy she knows she's supposed to love envelopes Rukia's small form in his arms. She feels for a moment that she would fit much better--she is taller after all--but even that thought is fleeting. She feels nothing as she hugs Matsumoto, already drunk for all the wrong reasons. Her friend's heart is shattered and though she wishes she could pick up the pieces, she knows she cannot. Even Hitsugaya seems more somber. He knows Hinamori is with them again, she hasn't left his side through every healing, but he's broken on the outside and she's broken on the inside. But they'll find how they fit together now, eventually they will. After all, when someone is shattered in one way, sometimes they need another person who is shattered in a different way to show them how to put the pieces back together.

With deadened steps she walks off, unable to keep her mask up any longer. She feels nothing and without the mask nothing shows on her face. She is used to feeling, in fact she is used to feeling too much. To suddenly feel nothing, its jarring and frightening--or it would be she imagines if she was capable of feeling anything. She knows what she _should_ feel, though it is a far cry from the joy and elation that so many of her friends are experiencing. So many people have suffered and died that this so-called 'victory' leaves a bitter taste in her mouth. It is not a victory, not really. it is a lie, a sham, they have won the war but they have lost more than they can ever recover.

Her feet hit the lip of the cliff before she realizes she's reached it. Orihime peers down the infinite darkness and wonders if she really could. It would be easy to do, easy to just let go and fall. Even if there was no-one to catch her she could fall. Just take a breath, close her eyes and let the world go. If she destroyed her body would she feel something other than numb? Would she be able to breath and feel again? She looks down farther and wonders if thats possible. Her feet touch the edge of forever as her eyes sweep the ground before focusing on the horizon. The fact that it is a pretty day is just beyond strange to her fogged mind. Her breath hitches as one foot steps back to the life she left behind while the other remains where it is.

"Inoue?"

_Inoue_

The voice echoes in her head. Its that human female tone one moment and an odd blend of cool and masculine a moment later. Orihime's breath catches in her throat. She's still numb inside but suddenly her eyes are on fire and her throat is being squeezed so tight it hurts. She cannot breath, she cannot speak, all she can do is watch the world get more and more blurry. They call her name again but all she can hear is that cold voice, the voice she will never hear again. A muffled sound comes from her lips as her foot steps away from the person and into forever. Suddenly she is falling down. She hears the lone witness scream her name but she is falling already, gone to a place where no-one can catch her.

She falls and she feels relieved.

"Inoue!" they scream again, unable to say her first name.

"Inoue!" the voice is clear now, its distinct, "Orihime wake up!!"

She does not want too.

So she falls.

**

* * *

**

"Orihime _wake_ _up_!"

Tatsuki shook Orihime's shoulders harder, desperate to get _some_ reaction out of the nightmare ridden girl. Orihime just continued to sleep. She wasn't sure if she was having a nightmare, aside from the tears that streaked her face Orihime just looked like she was asleep. But that was the problem: she wasn't waking up. Tatsuki knew her well enough to know that she was in trouble. The fact that once again she could do nothing to help her was troubling to say the least. She hated feeling useless, especially when it came to her friends--especially when it came to Orihime. Ever since she protected her from bullies she had been determined to protect Orihime from _everything_. She hated seeing anyone upset, even Ichigo Kurosaki who would sit on the ground and wail if she beat him. Orihime was just so heartbreaking when she looked upset that Tatsuki couldn't bare the sight of it. But it seemed that there were a few things even she couldn't protect Orihime from.

Fortunately there was someone who could.

Tatsuki bolted upwards and yanked on her shoes. Orihime got money from relatives to live off of but all the time she had spent away meant that turning on her electricity and telephone would take a few days. At the moment she was staying at Tatsuki's house but Tatsuki didn't have the number of the person she needed to get her hands on. Not to mention she doubted he had a phone or anything on him. With a quick word of warning to her mother Tatsuki took off running as fast as she could towards the Urahara shop. It was lucky she had been there before or she doubted she would have been able to find it. Thankfully after getting lost only once she managed to locate the shop. She pounded as hard as she could on the doors, desperate for Urahara or anyone to open them. Finally though they opened to reveal a sleepy Urahara who looked less than thrilled at being woken up.

"I need to speak to him!" Tatsuki blurted out.

Urahara's sighed and pushed back his blond hair.

"You know I can't do that," he said, not bothering how she knew about his guest/prisoner. He was going to have to talk to Kurosaki about what the words 'top secret' really meant.

"Its Orihime! She's having a nightmare or something but I can't get her to wake up!" Tatsuki looked at him, "I need to talk to him."

"He isn't going to help you," Urahara said, "he _kidnapped_ her and then the only reason he took care of her was because he was ordered too."

"You don't understand," she bit her lip, "i always could wake Orihime up from her nightmares, _always. _But now I can't do it," she looked at him, "I think her nightmare has something to do with him--just let me talk to him. I have to try, she's my best friend--"

Urahara sighed and stepped aside, letting her into the closed shop. He walked with her past the rooms and down to the underground training area. In the center, kido chains winding around his feet and ankles was Ulquiorra Schiffer. Only a handful of people knew his location, hell only a handful knew that he was alive at all. By all accounts Ulquiorra had died on the plains of Hueco Mundo during the Winter War, killed by Ichigo Kurosaki in a blaze of comic book esque glory. But there had never been an Arrancar who was able to reached the equivalent of a Bankai before. So even if he was mostly dead, Unohana on the orders of the Commander General had taken that little bit of life and worked tirelessly until he was healed. Because the thing that created him was one of Urahara's inventions--and because the two hours he spent in Mayuri's company had resulted in nothing short of disaster--it was decided that at least for the time being Ulquiorra would be Kisuke Urahara's responsibility. Though only a handful of people were aware of his survival, even fewer were aware of his location. Tatsuki knew because Ichigo knew and had told her just how useless he was in a fit of self loathing and mentioned that Ulquiorra was alive. It hadn't taken her much to guess where Ulquiorra was. There was only one place that Soul Society would trust him to be and that was the Urahara Shop. It seemed that she was right in thinking he would be there.

"Its Orihime!" she blurted out.

Ulquiorra's emerald eyes widened fractionally before his expression smoothed out as he looked first at her and then at Urahara. The fact that the blond man had let let her down there to speak to him was proof that he understood _something_ was going on. Tatsuki didn't care that her hair was probably in even more disarray than usual or that she was breathing hard, dressed in her pajamas--shorts and an oversized t-shirt--and sneakers. If that desperation convinced Urahara, even a little, to let her down to see Ulquiorra than she would look as desperate and pathetic as she had too. Even Ulquiorra seemed to be affected by her presence, his eyes moving smoothly from Urahara back to her before focusing on the far wall. Tatsuki inhaled sharply, her eyes darting between the two men, her patience waning.

"She needs help!" Tatsuki cried breaking the silence, "the only one who can help her is _you_!" she cried looking at Ulquiorra who did not return her gaze, "you've been taking care of her--for whatever reason--and I don't know what's wrong with her!" she looked at Urahara, "she needs help!"

"I cannot help you," Ulquiorra said flatly.

"That's bullshit!" Tatsuki snarled walking over to the Espada.

He was taller than her but it was rare to find someone shorter--aside from Rukia--than her. Still she glared up at him. He continued to look away, his emerald eyes refusing to see her or the truth that he was the only one who could help Orihime. It was bad enough that she couldn't help Orihime but if the one person that _could_ help her was refusing, that was something she could not accept. She would have gone to Ichigo, Ichigo would have tried to help Orihime but the fact was that Ichigo was basking in the glory of his relationship with Rukia. Tatsuki wasn't going to force Orihime to see that, besides she was still mad at Ichigo--and there was no guarantee that he was going to be able to do it. There was no guarantee that Ulquiorra was going to be able to do it either but Tatsuki did not consider that.

"You're just going to stand here and do nothing?!" Tatsuki cried. Ulquiorra said nothing, giving the confirmation that he was going to do nothing, "you son of a bitch!"

Ulquiorra hadn't though that being punched by such a short girl would hurt, well, at all. But he had never been punched by a girl like Tatsuki who did not go for his cheek or jaw or any place covered by hard skin. No, Tatsuki aimed and slammed her fist into his eye. His left eye exploded in pain as Tatsuki glared furiously at him, not daring to let him know that the knuckles that touched the area around his eye were scrapped. She just glared furiously up at him, her fists still tightly balled. Urahara sighed and walked forward to stand in between the two of them, knowing that nothing good would come of Tatsuki trying to beat any sense into Ulquiorra's hard skin--he doubted anything would get through.

"You're going to be staying with us for a while, Ulquiorra," he said looking at the Espada, "I don't keep my inventions as pets," he added as he undid the Kido at his feet and then the one at his hands.

Ulquiorra looked at his unbound feet and then at the man who was indirectly responsible for his creation. He knew that this was a shot of trust but for the life of him, he could not figure out _why_ Urahara would do such a thing. It was not as if he had proven any sort of loyalty or that he wouldn't go and try to kill them all. He _could_ do it, he could kill them all without any sort of guilt or remorse but now, now he was not really seeing the point that. If he did kill them all it would not get him anything, no one was ordering him to do anything of the sort, by not killing them he was no disobeying anyone. There was no motivation for the action and there was no reward for it either. Well watching Kurosaki die a slow and torturous death would certainly have its rewards but they would be superficial compared to the consequences, his prior confrontation had shown that. Slowly Ulquiorra flexed his wrist and looked at the infuriated woman.

"She doesn't know you're alive," Urahara said finally.

"What?" Ulquiorra looked over at him, the words seeming to stick in his throat.

"Ichigo's been really careful to keep it from her--they all have," Urahara said looking at Tatsuki who gave a nod of confirmation, "we thought it was for the best," he paused, "it seems we were wrong."

Ulquiorra looked down at the woman and uttered words he knew he would regret.

"Take me to her."

**

* * *

**

She looked horrible.

Pale and thin, almost to the point of being sickly, her lashes were dark against her pallor. Her t-shirt was slick with sweat, her legs exposed by the shorts were pulled tightly against her chest. Her sunset hair was unbound and unpinned, the strands lank with sweat. Every once in a while her breath caught in her throat and she would turn her face towards the pillow, but her features would always remain completely serene, as if she was not really there. Tatsuki stood next to him, lip caught between her teeth as he kept his eyes on the woman in front of the two of them.

It felt odd still to walk in the gigai that Urahara had given him and told him that he would be able to find him no matter where he went in the world. The fact that there was a massive bat tattooed on his right arm just seemed like a joke to the blond shop owner, one that Ulquiorra had a significant amount of difficulty in finding the humor in. But he pushed it to the back of his mind. Like it or not the woman was in trouble and for some reason he did not seem to be able to just sit aside and not do anything to help her. He always had the bad habit of making the situation when it came to her far more complicated than it had any right to be. It would have been so much easier to just stick IV's in her to make sure she ate. But no, he had to go through the endless process of making her eat the normal, human way.

With a barely contained sigh he walked over to her. She gave no indication of waking up, even when he knelt by her bedside. It was not the first time that he had woken her up from a nightmare and he was getting the feeling that it was not going to be the last. This time though when his fingers touched her shoulder he snatched his hand back almost immediately. He could _feel_ her, in a way that he had never been able too before. he had felt her, of course, but there was a certain lack of sensation that came with having bone hard skin able to deflect swords. Now though, even if his body was artificial he was able to feel her soft skin under his fingertips that weren't even hardened by callouses yet. His fingers touched her shoulder more firmly this time, his palm cupping the curve of muscle. She gave no response to his touch, no indication that she had even felt it, much less that it had any sort of effect on her.

"Woman," he said the only name he had ever called her by, his voice low but a far cry from the authoritative coldness that he had addressed her with before.

He had no authority over her, no one was there to tell him that every breath she took, every beat of her feeble heart was his purpose. He wasn't even sure that it was anymore. Nothing seemed to be certain. He almost longed for the cool white corridors of Las Noches, the endless desert of Hueco Mundo--even Gin Ichimaru's odd smile would be welcomed at this point. Though it was impossible for him to admit it much less put a name on the strange emotions, Ulquiorra imagined that he felt a glimmer of what she had felt when he took her from everything she held dear. She had probably felt the nonsensical emotions far more acutely than he did, just as her skin had felt everything much more than his. But if he could feel like this now, would he soon feel emotions like her? What a nauseating thought.

He heard her friend inhale sharply at his lack of action and Orihime's lack of response and tried to fight back the frustration he felt soar through him. He wanted to turn around and slam his fist into _her_ eye and see how she liked how it felt. The rush of the urge surprised him. He hadn't wanted to kill someone like that since, well, since Ichigo Kurosaki. Though he doubted that Tatsuki would be as much of a fight. He forced himself to look at the woman in his arms, the woman he had taken care of on orders, the woman who for some odd reason seemed actually upset at the thought that he was dead. From the odd feeling inside him he realized that he was actually upset at the thought that she was not aware of his survival, upset and frustrated at her pathetic reaction. He had given her very few reasons to care about him but she was genuinely upset that he was dead even if he was the person who had kept her in Hueco Mundo.

"Woman," he repeated his name for her, his voice more harsh.

"Her name is Orihime," Tatsuki's voice came from behind him.

"I have never called her such a thing," he said looking back at Orihime. His fingers held her shoulders as he moved her into a sitting position, "woman, wake up!"

The sharp tone in his voice has Tatsuki wondering if she had made a mistake in getting Ulquiorra. But the next instant Orihime took a ragged, audible breath and her eyes opened.

Foggy with sleep it took her eyes a moment to adjust. Someone was gripping her shoulders tightly, the same someone who had pulled her back from the dream. So she wasn't dying, wasn't dead, wasn't falling into eternity. She had been asleep. Orihime felt her throat close as she squeezed her eyes shut. Matsumoto was still sad, Ulquiorra was still dead and even if he had woken her up Kurosaki still was in love with Rukia. The numbness she felt had been taken over by a chaotic swirl of emotions. Her friends had survived but the green eyed man who had been her captor and protector, he was dead.

So so many were dead.

Her body shuddered as she felt hot tears escape her tightly closed eyelids. She moved to break the grip that held her. She didn't want Kurosaki to worry about her, she didn't want _anyone_ to worry about her. She was nothing but a burden to them. They were so happy they had won, her tears were just a cruel and horrible joke to them. They would never be able to understand why she didn't rejoice with the rest of them, why part of her longed for the cool and white of the room she had lived in for what seemed like eternity. But the person was not letting go, their hands remained on her shoulders holding her upright.

"K-kurosaki I'm fine," she said, her voice overly happy as she wiped at her tears with the back of her hands, "really," she could barely make him out as she tried to hold back her tears just long enough to reassure him, "I'm okay."

"Stop being ridiculous woman," the cool, familiar voice she never thought she'd hear again chided her.

Orihime's hands fell to her lap as she blinked the tears back just enough to see the familiar emerald of his eyes. For a moment she was too stunned to think, to breath, to cry or move. He was--he was alive. Somehow, he was alive. She did not see the gigai or the tattoo or the fact that he looked more human and strange than she had ever seen him. He was alive and holding her shoulders telling her to wake up. The blur in the corner of her eye had to be Tatsuki. Tatsuki had gone to get the one person who could--who could--

"Ulquiorra!"

Suddenly Ulquiorra had to brace himself against the bed as Orihime threw her arms around him and buried her face in his chest. Her sobs echoed around the room as her arms wound tightly around his waist. Ulquiorra stared at the sobbing woman who was clutching him like he was the only thing in the world that mattered. Ulquiorra had experienced a variety of reactions to his survival. Outright anger, disgust and confusion were just some of them. But no-one had ever seemed _happy_ that he was alive. Happy might be a stretch but she was clearly relieved that he had survived. Ulquiorra knew that they had shared _something_ but still, he did not expect her to be so relieved that he was there.

"Woman," he sighed, his arms coming up around her body as he sat fully upright, careful not to dislodge her.

Tatsuki's mind was reeling as she watched the Espada hold her friend close. They looked strange sitting there but their gestures spoke of familiarity with each other. She was holding him so tightly, her face buried in his chest as her tears soaked his shirt. Though he was by no means a big man, his arms still came around her as he held her against his chest almost, well, protectively. For all the hatred of emotions that Ichigo had told her he had, he did not seem the least bit perturbed at having his shirt turned into kleenex. He clearly was not thrilled at the situation but his dislike seemed to be far more inclined towards the fact that she was crying than anything else. He didn't like seeing her cry. What a _human_ thing to do. Knowing that Orihime would be alright, Tatsuki slipped quietly out of the room.

"Woman," Ulquiorra said when her hysteria had quieted, "why are you crying?"

"You're alive," her voice came to him.

"Yes, woman, I'm alive," he said. He felt her tremble, "don't cry again," he said abruptly.

"B-but I can't help it!" she replied, "you're alive!"

"Woman, you're making no sense."

"You never say I make sense!"

Ulquiorra sighed and drew back just enough so there was space between them. Perhaps because he had spent so much time in her company or observing her but he could see just how _different_ she looked. Had he been the cause of this? Orihime quickly wiped at her cheeks, though the traces of her tears would remain long after the tears themselves had dried. She looked at him for the first time and realized how _human_ he looked. There was no bone white, no broken helmet, the only traces of tears on him were the ones she emptied on his chest. And on his arm--

"Do you have a tattoo?" Orihime demanded looking at the dark lines.

"Urahara has an odd sense of humor," he said darkly looking at the lines before focusing on the woman in front of him, "you have not been coping," he said looking at her body, "or eating," she looked down guiltily. Ulquiorra reached out, his fingers gently guiding her chin so she looked at him, "woman what happened?"

"i was sad," she said, her voice soft.

"Sad," he repeated letting his hand drop, "woman that is no reason to let yourself waste away. Even the people you were sad for would not want you to do that."

"I was sad for you," she blurted out, her cheeks burning, "I thought you were gone this time for real," his eyes widened. She had always been so adamant about how much she cared for her friends, her precious Kurosaki, he did not think that his supposed death would horrify her that much," why didn't anyone tell me you were alive?"

"I do not know," he said, "your heart is nothing but trouble woman," he said looking at her, "you have not been eating or sleeping."

"I have been too!" she argued petulantly.

"Woman," he sighed, resisting the urge to roll his eyes, "you cannot lie to me."

Orihime lowered her eyes looking at the sheets pooled on the bed. She did feel rather foolish for how she had acted. But so many people were still dead, so many were still hurt. Even so for some reason the sight of Ulquiorra alive and well seemed to make her spirits rise. The fact that she had not been eating or sleeping suddenly seemed rather foolish. Especially considering most of her grief had been because of him and for reasons she did not fully understand. Her eyes went upwards to look at Ulquiorra in the gigai before darting back to the sheets, She felt foolish all of a sudden wearing her oversized t-shirt and pajama shorts.

"I know," she murmured.

"Go to sleep, woman," he said.

"But--"

"I'll still be alive when you wake up," he said, "but i will probably have to return to the Urahara shop," she gave a small, miserable nod.

"Will you--" she began.

"Woman," he sighed.

She knew full well he'd stay until she fell asleep.

**

* * *

**

**Okay so the next one is going to be a followup to this one. **

**i swear there's gonna be kissing in it! How many chapters has it been since they made out? No, don't answer that. I promise there's gonna be some in the next one!**

**Big thank you to all the warm wishes for my trip. I'm back. Cozumel was amazing and, as it turns out, you CAN drink the water there without getting really sick, which was a very nice change since not being able to drink the water in Egypt was such a pain. Me and Chaos Dragon are going to go there and sell toothbrushes and imodium to tourists and make a fortune. **


	9. Yang

**Okay here's 'Yang', the oneshot that accompanies the prior one, 'Yin'. I apologize for the delay but, well, there's a bunch of other stories I'm working on right now.**

**Also the latest manga chapter made me want to hit Orihime. I think she set a new record for the number of times that someone said the word "Kurosaki" in a chapter. I won't spoil you all but it was really REALLY annoying. **

**So lets take a trip to my Enchantable-world where Orihime is not a spineless whining girl okay?**

**Oh and shameless plug because I'm thrilled I finally tracked this band/album down, the song Ulquiorra is listening too is called "For Knox" by an awesome band called Goldfish. The whole album is just awesome. **

**Someone asked me this via PM and I replied but the rest of you might be wondering so YES there will be a SOUNDTRACK for this at the end. I usually put a song or two with the chapters but these all have multiple songs that go with them. So at the end I'll give you a list. The chapters titles aren't songs this time but tied to the mythology of various cultures and classical works of literature. **

**Now to the story.**

**

* * *

**

It was only through supreme effort that Orihime managed to contain the laughter that threatened to spill from her lips.

What she was seeing should not have been that funny, really it shouldn't have been. It wasn't like Ulquiorra was doing anything really that embarrassing. He was in a gigai both to hide his strange appearance and to mask his Spiritual Pressure. There was no reason to find the t-shirt, cargo shorts and flip flops he wore to be funny. They were in a heat spell and she was in a short dress to try and get some relief when she was outside. It should be equally unfunny that Urahara, with his wicked sense of humor, had Ulquiorra's gigai tattooed with a big black bat on his right arm. Alone, none of that should be funny. But all together she was hard pressed not to laugh.

But it was the ipod that did her in.

She had learned that Ulquiorra loved music by complete accident one day when she heard him playing the piano. Aside from the oddness that there was a piano in Las Noches, the fact that _Ulquiorra_ was playing it was even odder. Throughout their time together it had become clear that Ulquiorra was actually a music buff. He had told her one day when she was humming something that she was flat. Then another time when she had mentioned a popular music group, he had not only been able to tell her _how_ bad they were but also tell her the names of several other music groups that were much better...popular music groups. Orihime had tried to press him for more information after each of the incidents but in true Ulquiorra fashion he had gone silent and threatened to force feed her, something that towards the end Orihime was starting to think was his way of expressing endearment rather than outright anger.

Ironically it was the very thing that Ulquiorra withheld from Aizen that saved him. There had never been an Arrancar who had such a successful Shinigamification before. After endless trials, questionings and two and a half very violent and frustrating hours spent in the company of the 12th Division, Urahara had found himself with yet another of his crazed experiments who needed a home. He had been somewhat less than enthusiastic about the idea of being in charge of--and therefore responsible for--Ulquiorra Schiffer, in fact the only person who had shown more dislike for the situation was Ulquiorra himself. But neither had a say in the matter--something it turned out they liked even less than each other. So somehow Ulquiorra Schiffer, former 4th Espada had found himself living with Yoruichi, Urahara, Tessai, three mod souls, Jinta and Ururu.

Orihime didn't even know that Ulquiorra was alive. She had been staying with Tatsuki while she dealt with the practical side of being kidnapped, namely the fact that her electricity and gas and TV ad all been turned off since there was no-one to pay the bills. Haunted by the idea that they had won at such a cost, that he was dead and so many people had been hurt, she had suffered what she thought was just a regular nightmare. The problem was that Tatsuki could not wake her up. So Tatsuki had done the only thing she could think of, she went to the Urahara shop and got Ulquiorra. Ulquiorra had woken her up and Orihime broke down against her green eyed protector. It had been almost two months since Ulquiorra had become an unofficial resident of the Urahara shop and Orihime found herself completely unafraid of him. In fact, she found herself enjoying his presence.

"Hey Ulquiorra!" she called trotting up to him.

"Hello woman," he said.

His voice was cool as one of his pale hands reached up and pulled the white buds out of his ears, looping them around his neck with an ease that made Orihime's smile widen. Her smile was not as wide as Ulquiorra's eyes were for a heartbeat before he quickly smoothed his expression. She was wearing a pale green sundress, the color somehow oddly fitting against the creme of her skin and the sunset tumble of her hair. Over one shoulder she carried a purse and in her hand was a paper cup of lemonade, the barest hint of pale pink clinging to the straw. He realized that her eyes looked bigger and her lips were colored softly, he didn't think he had ever seen her wear makeup before. The flower pins were tucked neatly into her hair and around her right ankle was a string of blue beads. She looked so perfectly ordinary and at home that Ulquiorra was even more aware of the oddity of the situation.

"What are you doing out here?" Orihime asked as they continued to weave through the crowds.

"The Urahara Shop needed a few things," he said, "Urahara felt I could be _trusted_ to go to the market," his voice held nothing but disdain for the blond man.

"Oh good! I have to go there too," Orihime said, "I'm all out of rice."

Ulquiorra gave a nod of consent as the two of them walked towards the market. Though he was still on very thin ice, it seemed that Urahara was giving the Espada a bit more freedom than he had been. It wasn't as though he couldn't find him though, the gigai he wore allowed him to be instantly traced from anywhere. Still the fact that Ulquiorra hadn't torn out of the gigai and murdered everyone in sight was a testament to the fact he understood that this was his last option. It was this or Mayuri and even if he hated Kisuke Urahara the only person he couldn't stand more was Mayuri. Even Ichigo Kurosaki, who Ulquiorra still couldn't be in the same room with, was lower on the list than Mayuri.

"So what do you need at the market?" Orihime asked.

Ulquiorra rattled off a list of junk food with such disdain that Orihime finally burst out with the laughter she had barely been sighed as she doubled over laughing loudly. To anyone else they looked like they were just a pair of friends out on the hot summer day. Ulquiorra was not sure how he felt about that. He had been unhappy when he stuck his hand out the window and discovered it was very hot outside, even less thrilled when Yoruichi had presented him with the cloths. Orihime straitened up, wiping her cheeks on her hand as Ulquiorra continued to look either at her or at the people who passed them by.

"Have you ever eaten junk food Ulquiorra?" she asked finally.

"A healthy diet is important," he said, a note of defensiveness in his voice, "I made sure your diet was healthy--what are you doing?" he demanded as the straw to her lemonade was shoved in front of his mouth.

"Try it!" she said happily, "there's a reason people like junk food Ulquiorra, it taste good."

"its not good for you," he said.

"So? Try it."

"Woman--" he sighed.

"Come on Ulquiorra!" she said pushing the straw at him, "try it!"

He sighted and toyed with the idea of telling her 'no'. But it seemed that he was not going to be able to do that. He was no longer her captor, her protector--he wasn't sure _what_ he was to her. His relationship with her had been defined by the orders that bound them together. Kidnapping was not something that he did by choice, he never would have gone and snatched someone like he did to her when Aizen ordered it. Every moment he spent in her company was under Aizen's orders. When Aizen was defeated then by all accounts they should not have remained with each other. They were still somehow in each others company even if there was absolutely no logical reason for it. He looked at the straw and then at her grey eyes. Finally he leaned forward and took a sip of the lemonade.

"Its not bad," he said finally.

"Was that your first time drinking lemonade?" she asked.

"No," he said, "but its the first time in a long time."

Orihime bit her lip, guilt filling her. She forgot that Ulquiorra was a Hollow. Well not forgot but when he was in his gigai it was easy to put it to the back of her mind. He just looked very normal--even if he had a tattoo. She saw his green eyes begin to get the guarded look they sometimes had and immediately brightened, releasing her lip from her teeth.

"Thats right! In your gigai you look so normal I keep forgetting how much older you are than me!" he gave her a puzzled look, "well Rukia and Renji and all the others--even Urahara--they're so much older than the rest of us."

"I am not that much older than you," he said finally, his discomfort with the subject obvious.

He was not. Ulquiorra remembered his life, even if it was through the hazy fog of becoming a cannibalistic Vasto Lorde. The mind blocked out traumatic events and for that reason certain things were foggier to him than they should have been but he did remember his life. He had been a young man when he died. Older than her but only by a handful of years, nothing like Rukia or Renji or Urahara who were centuries old even on top of their time in the transient world. For some reason he found himself rather uncomfortable when the subject of his past life came up. Part of what allowed him to stay in Karakura Town was that he had to submit to Urahara. While by no means as bad as Mayuri or Aizen, the scientist could be a bit of a pain to deal with. Even so the change was not unwelcome.

"Really? You act much older than me," she said cocking her head to the side as though she was considering something, "you act much older than _anyone_ I know, except maybe Ishida but Ishida's always acted really old. And I guess my brother," she took a sip of lemonade, "but he had to take care of me so I guess that makes sense too--" she looked over at Ulquiorra and grinned, "you had to take care of me too!"

"I was ordered to do that," he said.

"I know," she said, her voice a fraction softer, "well come on!" she brightened grabbing his hand, "lets go get your food before Yoruichi comes and gets angry. Last time she turned into a woman in the middle of the store."

Ulquiorra who had, unfortunately, had experience with Yoruichi's tendency to transform at inopportune moments, allowed Orihime to lead him into the store after she threw out the rest of her drink. He snagged a basket and the two of them wove their way through the store. Orihime held the list and began putting items in the basket. She was much better aquatinted with the transient world and it took her about half the time it would have taken Ulquiorra to track down all the items the Urahara Shop 'needed'. Finally she snagged the bag of rice she needed and led him to the counter to pay for everything.

"Are you two together?" the shop keeper asked looking at Orihime's bag of rice.

"N--"

"Yes," Ulquiorra cut in, paying for everything with the money Urahara had given him.

Orihime felt her cheeks heat up as the shopkeeper handed Ulquiorra the bags, including her one of rice. He took them before she had a chance to carry anything and the two walked out into the sun. Orihime felt odd. She brought money to buy the rice but he had beaten her to it. It was almost like, it was like he was taking care of her again. Ever since he woke her up from the nightmare the two of them had danced around the issue that despite being her captor he had also been her protector. Orihime didn't deny where their relationship had come from but she tried to keep from the topic if she could, she knew that Ulquiorra was uncomfortable with the subject and she was honestly a bit confused. Aizen had ordered him to keep her alive, that much she was sure of. But he hadn't just hooked her up to IV's or done anything that would have made his job very simple.

"You didn't have to do that," she said quietly. He looked at her out of the corner of his eye.

"Woman," he sighed, his voice an odd mix of emotions.

"Thank you," she said quietly after a moment as they continued to walk. He gave a nod of acknowledgement. They continued to walk quietly, finally reaching the Urahara Shop. He reached into the bag and pulled out the rice, handing it to her. She took it, her fingers just barely brushing his hand before they snatched their hands back, "I'll see you later Ulquiorra!" she said with a bright grin before she took off running.

Ulquiorra watched her go with an odd mix of feelings churning through him. The hand that had been touched by her feeling very odd. Turning he walked into the Urahara shop. The group swarmed him immediately to get their junk food. He continued to feel the oddness in his hand. Urahara must have seen it because he came over, lollipop in his mouth.

"Is something bothering you, Ulquiorra?" he asked.

"My hand," Ulquiorra said looking at the unblemished skin, "something is wrong with this giga."

"Nonsense Ulquiorra, that's improved version of the gigai the Vizards used for a hundred years! You just need to get used to it."

"Its broken" he said flatly looking at the shopkeeper, "she touched my hand and I can still feel it."

Urahara dropped his lollipop.

**

* * *

**

Ulquiorra turned his hand over in the moonlight. He was still in his gigai to mask his existence. Urahara hadn't told him anything except that his gigai was not broken, he was just being crazy. Ulquiorra flexed his fingers, he didn't think he was being particularly crazy. He was just very confused. Why would _her_ touch linger? Nothing else was out of the ordinary. The weight of the junk food made the plastic of the bag dig into his fingers but that mark hadn't lingered. Why did that one touch feel so shockingly different than any other? Why had that lingered when all other touches faded?

"You like her."

Ulquiorra lowered his hand to see Yoruichi leaned against the doorframe, her amber eyes looking at him. She had a variety of opinions for the various creatures that Kisuke had come up with over the years. While Ulquiorra was not one she particularly liked, she knew the true blame lay with Aizen. The blame always lay with someone else and it was simply their job to pick up the pieces. After Ulquiorra had come to them she had personally gone down and made sure that every single one of Kisuke's inventions was locked up safety, though with their luck she knew in a century or so one of them would show up or be dropped in their laps. Ulquiorra was not the worst thing to come out of one of Kisuke's inventions, but he was pretty damn close.

Or he had been anyway.

But as time went on it seemed that Ulquiorra was far more confused than anything else. He had simply done what survival told him too and focused on keeping a pulse in his system. He was a practical person in a chaotic world and in spite of her objections, Yoruichi knew that there was a certain sense in his actions. She would be lying if she said there weren't days when she wanted to stick her fist through the chest of half the men she knew, Ichigo Kurosaki included. But now it seemed that Ulquiorra was discovering what she had known for a while. While she was happy to collect the money from her bet with the entirety of the Women's Shinigami Association, she knew that Ulquiorra hadn't actually realized what was going on quite yet. Well that was what she was for, that and to make sure he knew that breaking Orihime's heart was a bad idea.

"She is one of the more," he paused, "more tolerable people in this place."

"I told you Tatsuki hits everyone, don't take it personally," Yoruichi said stepping fully into the room.

Ulquiorra's room was an odd place. It was by far the most modern room outside of Urahara's lab, a testament to the fact that when all was said and done Ulquiorra was not half as old as the rest of them. Books, magazines, even a laptop were on his desk. His ipod was in its dock charging. The cell phone that Urahara had given him--a failsafe in case the gigai malfunctioned and they could not find him--was charging as well. Though the rest of them maintained some semblance to Soul Society in their respective rooms, usually with old, sparse furnishings, his room actually bore the most resemblance to Ichigo Kurosaki's, not that either boy would acknowledge such a thing.

"I was not referring to Tatsuki," Ulquiorra said pushing himself up and swinging his legs over the side of the bed out of respect for her entry.

"You like Orihime," Yoruichi said straddling the chair by his desk, "not friendship-like, I mean you really like her."

"Like her?" Ulquiorra repeated, "wait--you mean like her--"

Yoruichi gave an enthusiastic nod. Ulquiorra's eyes widened at her enthusiasm. What she was suggesting--it was ridiculous. This was--this was the woman that he took away from everything. This was the woman that he took care of, the woman that he had protected and captured and held against her will in Las Noches. Besides, what interest would he have in her? She was obsessed with caring, emotions--all the things that had only recently begun to have a place in his world. She was even aquatinted with the world he had only just returned too. Perhaps what he felt was gratitude but like her, _like_ her like it Kurosaki liked Kuchiki? It was just ridiculous. No it was preposterous. He did not _like_ Orihime Inoue like some pathetic schoolboy.

"No."

Yoruichi grinned at the outright denial.

"You totally do."

Ulquiorra pressed his lips together, trying not to open his mouth. He knew that any objections he came up with would be completely shot down by the violet haired woman. It was odd but as things changed, as he no longer lived and died by someone else's orders it seemed that he was beginning to understand that the world was not as stark, not as black and white, as he thought it had been. Normally he did not find himself longing for the world he left behind, mainly because longing was just far too pathetic for him to comprehend feeling. Also because he had been indifferent when it came to Las Noches but it was not as thought he had truly enjoyed being there. Even if he was loath to admit it the truth was that if someone demanded he choose between Las Noches and the Urahara Shop, he would choose the latter.

"I am grateful for her help," he said finally, leaning back when Yoruichi leaned forward.

"She totally likes you too," the cat woman said.

"She _what_?"

He could not help the stunned look on his face. Orihime _liked_ him? But he was--she was--after everything that happened there was no way that they could possibly be anything but what they were. He was not even sure if he was her friend. He supposed they fit all the qualifications to be friends: they spent time with each other without wanting to kill each other, he would even say they enjoyed each others company. But what Yoruichi was suggesting, what she was implying it was impossible. He was pretty sure that there was a name for that and the name was a diagnosable psychological disease.

"Yep," Yoruichi said, "she totally likes you. Oh don't get all scared, I don't think she liked you back then when you were holding her captive or before when you were like a puppy--" Ulquiorra's eyes narrowed, "but now that you're actually neither puppy-like or a cold and unfeeling asshole, she totally likes you," Yoruichi leaned froward, "and you like her--you know now that you're not holding her captive or being homicidal and trying to kill all her friends."

Ulquiorra glared at her, his fingers still curled the sheets.

He was not going to get any sleep tonight.

Back in her apartment Orihime looked out across the expanse of Karakura Town. She was sitting at her window, her chin cushioned on her folded arms as she surveyed her home. She had moved into a new apartment after her lease on the other one expired. Though this one was a bit smaller it was higher up and the view was nothing short of spectacular. Orihime could sit for hours at the window and look out at the sky.

"You look sad."

Orihime extended a finger for Shun'o to land on. Sometimes she released her power just to let her fairies fly around and to make sure her skills were still sharp. Shun'o was the most talkative of the fairies while Ayame, one of the more quiet ones, was like her shadow. She imagined it was because the two of them made up her healing shield. She knew that Hinagiku, Biagon and Lily liked to spend time together while Tsubaki seemed to spend his time equally between the two groups that had formed out of her fairies. She was just glad that they all got along, she imagined it would hurt her head if they were always arguing.

"I'm not sad," Orihime said leaning her head so it was cradled in the crook of her arm.

"Is it Kurosaki?" Shun'o demanded. Ayame cupped her hands around Shun'o's ear and whispered, "is it Ulquiorra?"

"Ulquiorra?!" Orihime gasped and sat up ram rod strait, dislodging the fairies with her sudden movement as her cheeks turning bright red, "why would you think it was Ulquiorra?" she demanded as Shun'o came to hover right in front of her nose with Ayame.

"It _is_ Ulquiorra!" she said triumphantly, "you like Ulquiorra," she leaned closer, "we like him better than Kurosaki."

"B-but he _kidnapped_ me and then he tried to kill all my friends. Even now--" she looked at her fairies, "even now I think I'd have to be crazy to be in love with him."

"Tsubaki's always said you were," Shun'o said with a shrug, "besides now every thing's different."

"Its not that different," Orihime argued.

"Before when people asked you what you wanted to be when you grew up you drew a robot," Ayame whispered.

"She's right," Shun'o said putting her hands on her hips, "and all those endless 'save me Kurosaki' 'help me Kurosaki'--"

"I don't do that anymore!" Orihime cried.

"Exactly!" Shun'o said, "you've changed and he's changed. The only thing is that he keeps looking out for you now--" she frowned, "oh and he still calls you 'woman', we'd probably need to work on that one."

"Work on it?! We don't need to work on anything because I am not in love with Ulquiorra Schiffer!"

The fairies grinned as though she had just told them that the sun did not rise in the East or that she did not like the taste of Red Bean paste. It was like she had told them something crazy, something that there was just no way could be true. Orihime looked between them all. She was _not_ in love with Ulquiorra! After all he had done, after everything they had been through she was not in love with him. They were just being crazy and romantic. Just because now they could be in each other's company without her slapping him or any of her friends hitting him or him blasting holes in their chests--that did not mean they were _together_, or that they liked each other like her fairies were implying.

"I _don't_," Orihime said, "we're just--we're just friends okay? I just like spending time with him."

"Then how come you kept rubbing your hand where you touched him?" Shun'o asked.

"Shun'o! Now you all stop this right now. Its _Ulquiorra_ and he's still finding his way in this world and you all can't go and make him feel uncomfortable," she said sternly.

"Oh he's finding his way fine," Tsubaki said with a grimace, "he's downstairs.

"He's what?" she gasped ducking down.

Cautiously Orihime peered over the edge of her window. Down below her she could see a very frustrated looking Ulquiorra walking down the street. Her heart began to pound. Was he coming to see her? His feet slowed at the front of her door but he made no move to cross the street. In fact, she could have sworn he swore under his breath before he quickened his pace and hurried down the street in the opposite direction. Orihime watched him retreat rapidly, her eyes wide as she peered over the ledge of the window. Her sneakers were suddenly dangled in front of her, held aloft by Tsubaki and Lily who grinned.

"Go after him!" Shun'o ordered.

Orihime looked at her fairies and then at the shoes. Grabbing them she yanked them on as her fairies vanished into her hairpins. Orihime grabbed her keys and raced out the door, stopping long enough to lock it behind her as she ran down the street. She tried not to listen to the fact that Ulquiorra would probably think she was crazy for coming after him, though he'd probably just be embarrassed and try not to let her know. She'd know though. She had gotten very good at reading him since they left Las Noches.

Since he remained with her even when he was not ordered too.

She had been such an idiot. He probably didn't even realize it himself. But he had stayed with her, making sure she ate and slept and did everything that her grief had not let her do. Though he still refused to eat her cooking, saying that red bean paste was disgusting. She felt her lips curve up into a smile when she remembered his look of disgust at the amount of junk food that everyone from the Urahara shop wanted. But he had still tried the lemonade when she pestered him. Maybe it wasn't everything that he had done that wouldn't let her love him, maybe it was because of everything that she _did_ love him. Because after everything he was still there, still waking her up from nightmares as she showed him how to live without someone telling him what to do. Maybe she was just as confused as he was.

She finally caught sight of him up ahead, his hands shoved into the pockets of his pants, his t-shirt mostly hiding the black ink that decorated his arm. He seemed to hear her approach because he glanced backwards, his green eyes checking for threats. Clearly he did not see one or maybe she just never would be threatening to him but he turned around and faced her as she pulled up short and stopped her frantic pursuit of him. She didn't care that she was in her pajama bottoms and a loose tank top but he would surely know that she had just run after him spur of the moment.

"Woman, what are you doing here?" he questioned taking in her appearance.

"Why do you call me 'woman' still?" she gasped, trying to get her breathing under control. She needed to run more.

"I've always called you 'woman' woman," he said, his brow furrowing slightly, "you never told me to call you anything else."

"I--" she stopped, "well I guess not--" she looked down.

"Why did you come out here?" he asked looking at her.

"Tsubaki saw you walking," she said toying with her fingers, "and I came out here to tell you something but I--I completely forgot what it was."

"I came to tell you something as well."

Orihime looked at him. Ulquiorra wondered if this was really such a good idea but he forced himself to speak. If she had come running out in her pajamas to make sure he was okay--since she did not forget things and was probably just looking for an excuse--then he could do what he came there to do.

"I apologize."

Orihime's eyes widened as she stared at him. Ulquiorra tried not to be sick. He had decided that since he was not going to get any sleep he should go for a walk and when he went for a walk all his feet seemed to want to do was go to Orihime's house. He had blamed it on Urahara, thinking the blond man probably had programmed his gigai until he realized that every time he got close to her house he just as easily walked away. It figured that the moment he summoned the courage to get close enough to actually see the number on her door she saw him and came out. The idea of _apologizing_ for what he had done to her was not really his decision. It was just that sometimes when he was with her guilt would swell up and engulf him. Now if that horrible cat woman was right, which she tended to be, he had a feeling it would only get worse. That was him, practical to the end.

"You _what_?" she gasped, jerking him back to the present.

"I apologize for my actions," he repeated.

"But you were ordered too--"

"Orders or no I can see the prolonged effect they had on you," he said, "the orders that I followed have ceased and yet you remain a prisoner in some sense to the events that happened in Las Noches. Even if that is due to the fact that you are an emotional person, it is not something that I would have wanted even when I was under orders."

"I-I didn't think you really liked _any_ of it," Orihime admitted looking at the ground, "you were probably so used to just killing people and then suddenly you were stuck taking care of me," she toyed with the hem of her shirt, "but you never did any of the things you threatened me with," she continued, "you never force fed me or gave me IV's even after I slapped you," she looked up at him, "I never liked what you did but I knew that you probably wouldn't have just kidnapped me."

"No," he said finally, "i would not have," he looked at her, "but I did, why were you so upset at my death?"

"Oh that," she toyed with the edge of her shirt still, her fingers running along the edge of the cotton, "well I--" she looked up at him feeling her cheeks warm up, "just every so often you'd act--um--you'd act different," he raised an eyebrow, "I don't know, you'd just act differently and I always wondered about who you would be if you weren't Aizen's subordinate. Even though people got me during your fight with Ichigo, the rest of the time you always kept me safe. And I just wondered, I wondered who you'd be and I was sad because of that."

"You are too emotional," he said, his voice low.

"I know," she said quietly, "I always have been," she gave a smile and helpless shrug, "my brother told me that it made up for the fact that the people around me never let themselves feel anything."

"Thats not fair to you," he said, "you should stop trusting people so easily with your heart."

"But the people I trust, they always take good care of me," she said looking up at him with her wide grey eyes.

"That will not always be the case, woman," he said.

"Orihime," she said, "I want you too--I'm asking you to call me Orihime."

"Your friends all call you Inoue," he said.

"You know I don't like it when they call me that," she said, "I keep trying to get them to call me Orihime but--" she trailed off with a shrug, "they keep calling me Inoue. I figure if I get you to start now I'll have at least one person who calls me Orihime instead of Inoue."

"Or woman."

Orihime laughed.

"Right," she said with a bright smile.

"You should not be out here in your pajamas," he said finally, "go back inside."

"Okay," she said turning around to go, "oh I remember what I was going to tell you!" she exclaimed.

"What?" he asked.

"I, um, I--" she fumbled over her words before she fell silent. Ulquiorra waited patiently for her to say something, wondering what could possibly make her so nervous around him. Anger, fear, concern--she had displayed a variety of confusing emotions around him, none of which he truly understood the necessity for, "here!"

Ulquiorra's eyes widened as she stood on her tiptoes and clumsily pressed her lips against his.

It was funny, really because when she lunged forward he expected her to slap him. Instead he found himself being kissed by her. She was clumsy with inexperience, their teeth knocked and her lips remained pressed tightly together but she had kissed _him_ none the less. He could feel, well he could feel everything on a physical level including the chest that he had learned practically every boy Karakura Town High School wanted to see/touch. Emotionally he was far too stunned to feel anything except, well, except shock. Orihime Ioue was actually kissing him. Cheeks flaming Orihime jumped back just as quickly as she had lunged forward, the spectacular chest she had pressed against his heaving as though she had run a mile.

"Well, um, goodnight Ulquiorra!" she gasped turning and running down the street back to her apartment.

Ulquiorra watched her run off, not moving until he was sure that she was safely in her apartment. Then he turned and walked home. On the other side of the door Orihime caught her breath among her cheering fairies, elated beyond measure. Not only had she kissed Ulquiorra.

But she saw him smile.


	10. Songs of Experience

**Okay first and foremost massive massive shout out to Dwellin who has drawn a gorgeous Ulquihime pic for this homepage is my Deviantart page so you can go and check it out there or go to Dwellin's page. She's done some awesome artwork for my longer story "Silent Force" which is also Ulquihime heavy. Dwellin was actually the first artist who drew something for my stories and she's just done amazing work since then. I'm always happy when I see stuff she's drawn.**

**Now go look at the picture and lavish praise on Dwellin! I know my comment was something along the lines of "OMG---*dies of joy*" so you all have to be more articulate. **

**In other news this is a FOLLOWUP to "Songs of Innocence". It takes place some time after that. The title comes from the accompanying book of poems by William Blake called "Songs of Experience". The collection is a great one and I'm not a huge poetry fan. **

**Now to the story.**

**

* * *

**

Her booted feet made an indecent amount of noise on the floor.

The tulle and silk of her skirt was long enough that she had to bunch the fabric in her hands to expose her feet to keep running.

Though all these things registered, Orihime Inoue did not spare a thought for such trivial things.

The fact that she had locked his replacement in her room might be a concern, or the fact that without some help she was probably never going to get out of this hallway and where she needed to go was also a problem. But those were problems that could be dealt with. She would take hostage _anyone_ she had to if it meant that she could get where she was going to go and then she would do whatever it took to get him back. Her fingers tightened in the heavy fabric, she would find a way even if Aizen Sosuke didn't like it. He _needed_ her, he needed her enough to indulge her even a little. Of course this was far more than a little but Orihime was confident that she could make it work. After all what was the power of the Gods in comparison to one Espada? Shoving her personal thoughts on the matter aside she continued to run, praying that Aizen was cold and calculating enough to see it from a practical point rather than an emotional one.

He had taken Ulquiorra Schiffer from her.

It had been her fault really. Ulquiorra never went to his Secondary release unless _she_ was in trouble and as luck would have it she landed herself in a lot of trouble. It wasn't like before, these men were much too smart to kidnap her. No they snuck into her room and were about to strike her down with their bare hands. Well, they were about to strike her down after they raped her. She struggled against them as hard as she could but without her fairies--which they took--her karate was pretty much useless against their hardened skin. So as much as she hated to do it she screamed as loud as she could. She barely got it out before they gagged her but Ulquiorra heard. She did not know if it was anger or the knowledge that even with his Sonido he couldn't have made it in time but within moments a quarter of Las Noches was destroyed, the men were dead and Ulquiorra's secret was out. It he just went to his regular form it would have been fine, Aizen had long since reenforced the palace to stand up to any release.

Or so he thought.

He had been dragged off before she could say a word. Then the next day someone new came in, one of the replacement Espada and said that he was going to be taking care of her. She knew then that Ulquiorra, the calming presence she had come to care about was gone. Aizen had taken him. He had been there longer than her friends, longer than anyone she had ever known. Though their relationship had been broken before it had begun, the truth was that she had become to care about him. At first she thought it was just because they interacted so much he was really the only person around she could care about but it was becoming clear to her that it was more than that. That if she had never met the emerald eyed Espada who still fumbled his chopsticks and played the piano more beautifully than anyone she ever met, her life would be a much darker place. She realized that if he was gone that wound would hurt, it would hurt just as badly as the day she had lost all her friends. She knew she was the type of person who gave away her heart and when she had done it before it had been returned to her broken. Her heart was not perfect, not anymore but it had been put back together. And maybe, just maybe, she had let someone in again without even realizing it.

She did realize it then, as her new 'protector' told her that her food was there. Orihime had done the only thing she could think. She injured him and the Arrancar who brought her food as heavily as Tsubaki would allow her too and bolted. Now she was sprinting down the corridor as fast as her feet would let her and praying that no-one had noticed. She did not know how to shift the corridors. She was praying that she found someone who could. Her feet seemed to still as she rounded the corner and saw Gin Ichimaru standing there, or rather leaning against the wall in his white robes. Orihime did not share the feelings of discomfort around him that most of the world seemed to. She had learned in her time there that not everything was black and white and that if there was ever a person who fit into that grey area it was Gin Ichimaru. Her eyes focused on the chain looped between his fingers and she felt her insides twist.

One of the reasons that she had never tried to alienate Gin was because she knew that Matsumoto wouldn't have wanted that. If she was the only one of her friends to be there in the odd new world then she didn't want to be selfish. She knew Matsumoto had loved and worried about Gin, even in light of his betrayal. Giving him back her necklace was one of the last things she did before she died. Orihime summoned her courage and stepped into the hallway fully. Gin turned his head to look at her, his ruby eyes assessing her appearance. Quickly his pale fingers looped the necklace around his wrist, turing it into a bracelet that Orihime knew for a fact he was never without. His familiar grin slowly came onto his face as he looked over at her.

"I was wonderin' how long it'd take ya," he said, "how bad are they?"

"You should probably send medical over," she said with a small smile.

"Come on," Gin shrugged, "your boy's over here," he led her down the corridor, "how long have you known?"

"Since Ichigo's fight," she said.

"I'm gettin' the feelin' that he only uses that when your in trouble," Gin said. Orihime gave a quick nod, "Aizen ain't happy with him," he warned, "he's already punished him somewhat but--" he trailed off with a flick of his wrist, "ya know how Aizen gets."

"I know," Orihime said softly looking at him, "but I want him back," she added with her voice more firm.

"That ya gotta take up with Aizen," he said stopping in front of the door.

"I will," she said squaring her shoulders and swishing out her skirt, "let me in."

"Try not to scream," he ordered her.

"Why would I--" she looked forward as the doors opened, summoning the cold face she wore now when she dealt with Aizen Sosuke, the God King of Soul Society.

She kept her cold grey eyes locked on Aizen's as she walked down the stairs that led to his throne room. Murmurs went up as she entered, as she descended and as she walked the path to the throne. But she didn't care. She had been impressed when she was a girl and terrified of everything that moved in the night. Now a woman the place had long since lost its terror, its impressiveness, the only reaction she could summon was disgust. Aizen's eyes never left her as she walked to where he was, keeping her eyes on his. Something touched her foot but she ignored it, she ignored it even when her feet began to walk through something wet, something that was not water.

"Give him back."

Aizen raised an eyebrow at the demand but Orihime just glared up at him. He needed her, he needed her power and they both knew that. If he denied her he was risking her and her abilities. Aizen Sosuke might have had all the power in the world but he was shit at healing and they both knew it. Her hands brought back countless high ranking soldiers that he lost. Her abilities had won battles and defended lives. He was pure evil and whether she wanted to admit or not she represented the sliver of good still in the world. He was destruction and she was rebirth and they both knew that if he lost her there would be serious consequences in the loyalty of his following.

"Are you sure you want that?" Aizen said, amusement in his eyes as if she was a child asking for a toy back when they both knew more was at stake, "he's a bit broken at the moment."

"Give him _back_," she repeated, her voice as cold as she had ever made it.

They were both aware of the fact that all eyes were on them and the figure that was by her feet. She knew it was Ulquiorra, a seriously injured Ulquiorra but she forced that to the back of her mind. If she saw him like that because of her, she would go to complete pieces and be utterly useless. She could cry later, she could deal with him later, right now she just had to make sure that when she left the throne room she left with her protector. Aizen's eyes went to her right where she knew he was laying but she did not let he eyes follow. She kept them glued on Aizen and only on Aizen. She heard a sound like a sigh beside her, like a--like a last breath. Finally he shifted and his eyes went to her.

"You can have him," he said with a wave of his hand, "I've gotten all I need to out of him, he's useless to me now."

"Santen Kesshun! I reject!" Orihime summoned the power.

Hinagiku, Lily and Biagon formed their shield, slipping under Ulquiorra and rising. Orihime tried not to look at the form on it as she motioned for them to take him to he rooms.

"You're not going to heal him here?" Aizen asked, his voice smooth and sinful.

"No," Orihime said, her voice cold, "and once his replacements are healed I never want to see them again," she turned on her heel.

"Even if he dies?" Aizen asked.

"He is not going to die," Orihime said, her voice still controlled, "I am going to heal him."

She did not tell him that if he did die she probably would loose it and soak Las Noches in the blood of those who lived there. She could not think about what she would do if he died, she was not going to let him die. Her fairies got him to the room far ahead of her even as she took the corridors at a run. Using her shield for transport was something she had developed relatively recently and he was thankful for it. While it was easy for Ulquiorra to carry her she could not say the same for him. She raced into her thankfully deserted room and finally looked at the form of her protector.

Thankfully here she could scream.

He looked more dead than alive, if that was possible. His wings were twisted, misshapen to the point where it looked as though they had never been used for flight. His tail was shredded as well, bloody and burned skin took up most of his torso and a few of his odd toes were bent the wrong way. One of his horns was completely broken off, the other was cracked visibly. Just like his fight with Ichigo one of his arms was completely missing and the other had been twisted. His features were smooth as though he was in no agony. Though Orihime wanted nothing more than to throw her arms around him she knew that if she touched him he might break apart.

"Soten Kisshun, I reject," she said, her voice soft and choked.

The golden glow stretched across Ulquiorra's form as her other shield remained in place underneath him. She knew it would take time for her healing to show on his outside form. He was probably so injured on his insides--she closed her eyes and focused harder, trying to get the shield to work even quicker than it had been. The sound of bones aligning forced her to open her eyes. His wings began to take their usual shape, bones and tendons and muscles slowly reforming and knitting back together. His arm was beginning to reform as well while his toes snapped back into place. To conserve power her healing was trying to work with what it had, realigning what it could before it healed and reformed what needed to be done. Orihime's fingers trembled as she kept them there. Her shield lowered him to the floor and gently vanished as his massive wingspan spread out. Slowly his arm came back into existence as his tail began to reform. Finally after what seemed like a lifetime he was fully back into existence, healed and unconscious.

Orihime bit her lip and looked at him as the golden glow retreated. He was completely remade, it was probably common for him to sleep. She summoned her shield again and moved him onto the bed, his wings tucking automatically as he lay on the soft expanse. His tail with its wicked tip lay on the floor. Orihime bent down and picked it up, moving it onto the bed. She knew that he hated it when his tail got dirty. When he was in his secondary form he always whipped it around, never letting it touch the ground. Her floor might have been clean but still, she didn't want it to get dirty. Her fingers touched the arm she had reformed, the wings that she had fixed--she wanted to know that everything she had healed was done right. She didn't want to have messed anything up. She got him in this position, she wanted to make sure that she at least got him out.

Her fingers trembled as she looked at him, her lip caught between her teeth as she fought the tears in her eyes. Even after the handful times she had seen him in his secondary release form she was unable to look at him without fear coursing through her. Even though every time he appeared like that it was because someone threatened her or someone came to take her away, she had never really thought of that form as the one of her rescuer. But looking at him on the bed she realized that while she had never been afraid of him in his other form, she was not afraid of him now either. She was--she was worried about him. Even when her friends had died she had never found the strength to save them but somehow she had found it to save him. But she had gone and she had saved Ulquiorra.

Orihime felt her body convulse as the sob she was trying to contain fought to break free. She had saved someone, someone she cared about. She did not know if it was the fact she cared so much or the fact that she saved him but the tears finally broke free. Orihime buried her face in her hands and began to sob, trying to keep herself quiet so she didn't wake Ulquiorra. The notion that she was doing such a thing, not because it would annoy him but because she wanted too only made her sob harder. She wanted him to wake up, to scold her but to hold her none the less and even though he'd be frustrated with her mood he'd still be there. He'd be there through everything and selfishly she wanted to keep him by her side. She _wanted_ him to be there.

The sound of someone exhaling jerked her out of her tears. She wiped her eyes quickly and peered anxiously over at Ulquiorra. Her hair was really too long. When she was crying she had been close enough to him that one of the locks had dangled across his nose. Orihime gasped and quickly yanked her hair back, peering down at him anxiously. Ulquiorra grimaced and blinked open his white and black eyes. They seemed to take a moment to focus before they finally rested on her. Orihime felt her lip tremble at the sight of Ulquiorra looking at her.

"Woman, what did you do?" he questioned, his voice soft but not hoarse thanks to her healing.

"I--I got you back," she said knotting her hands in her lap. Ulquiorra pushed himself up, "oh maybe you should keep laying down," Orihime said touching his shoulder.

"What did you do?" he demanded again looking at her.

"I demanded that Aizen give you back and then I healed you and made sure you were okay," she said blushing, "and then you woke up."

Ulquiorra stared at her. He had been taken from her and punished severely for keeping that secret from Aizen. But he hadn't cared. He would not have allowed the men touch her, he would have done anything to prevent them from hurting her even if it meant revealing such a thing. Then he had been lost in a haze of agony and needles and cruel cold laughter as Aizen's terrifying voice demanded answers from his split lips. The last thing he remembered was seeing her walk into the throne room, her eyes furious as she demanded his return. But past that, past that there was nothing. Yet somehow there he was on her bed, still in his secondary form. His Spiritual Power was a joke in how low it was but it was there, she was there--he was there. She had--

She had _saved_ him.

He was so used to being the one to charge in and fight the monsters before taking her back to the palace that had slowly stopped being hell to her. He had seen her go to pieces when he friends were injured and he had been concerned that she would find her way to the throne room and that she would get herself in over her head with Aizen. If he wasn't there to protect her he did not want her to get out of control. Whoever Aizen sent to replace him would be completely useless in most matters. They would not know that the best way to get her to eat was to actually eat with her. She was too polite not to eat and because of his Spiritual Power he actually needed food. They wouldn't know that if she had a nightmare one had to sit with her, close enough so that she could feel they were actually there and not some illusion. They would not be half as good as fighting away people who tried to take her because they would only care about her because Aizen ordered them too.

They would not care about her because somehow, inexplicably she had wormed her way into their heart--into his heart.

"That was very foolish," he said, "you should not have risked yourself to save me."

"But you were in trouble because of me," she said, "you got _hurt_ because you tried to save me," she bit her lip, desperate to fight the tears in her eyes, "You're always coming to save me, I wanted to save you."

"Woman," he shook his head as hers finally overflowed.

With a choked sob she threw herself at him, not caring about his form. He let her, his arms coming around her as she buried her face in his chest and sobbed, her relieved tears soaking his skin. He wrapped his arms around her, careful not to cut her with his claws. She wrapped her arms around him, her fingers settling just below his wing joints. He had long since gotten over his fear of physical contact when it came to her. But he knew that his Secondary form often frightened her, even after the one time they had flown together and she kept her eyes open. But there was no fear as she hugged him, her tears soaking his skin. She was not afraid of him. He glanced over and realized she had even tucked his tail onto the bed. For some reason the gesture seemed to twist something inside him and he felt his arms tightening around her fractionally.

Orihime drew back fractionally to look up at him, her grey eyes still soaked in tears. Her death grip around him loosened as he let his own arms relax enough to let her draw back. He tried to hold still as one of her hands came up to trace the tear lines that marked his face, her inquisitive fingers realizing that even in this form the lines were as smooth and undistinguishable from his skin as they were in his other form. Her palm laid flat along his cheek before it slipped down his skin to lay on his chest, just outside of his Hole. He had once thought he would never wish for forgiveness for what he did to her, for the murder of her friends for the fact that he was imprisoning her. But looking down at her encircled in his arms he did not know if he felt that way anymore. He did not know what to feel. Rescuing her constantly had been strange, he had kidnapped but he had never actually rescued anyone before. But far stranger was the fact that she had just saved him. Ulquiorra did not think he could be saved or that she would particularly want to save him.

"Why?" the word was out of his lips before he could stop it.

_Why did you save me?_

_Why are you so foolish?_

_Why do you care when I've done nothing but hurt you?_

Her answer was just as enigmatic when she smiled up at him through her tears.

"Because."

_Because you are worth saving._

_Because even if you've hurt me, you're still the one who saves me._

_Because you showed me that I was finally _finally_ strong enough to save someone I cared about._

They moved at the same time, her upwards slightly and him leaning down and just as they tended to do, they met in the middle.

His lips were somehow hard and soft at the same time, ebony against her own pink ones. One of his hands left her waist to gently touch her cheek, the claws that had sliced so many apart so easily just barely touching her skin. She felt the claws vanish as they became fingers again. She felt his wings fold and disappear as the bare skin under her fingers became the familiar fabric of his shirt. As they kissed Ulquiorra turned back into his usual form. Orihime felt the transformation and she kept kissing him through all the changes until the man she was kissing was the one who had come to her what felt like a lifetime ago and demanded she come with him to Las Noches. When they finally drew apart sitting across from her was the broken helmet wearing, emerald eyed Ulquiorra Schiffer. But even in this form she remembered what he looked like before and for some reason she did not feel afraid when she thought of the powerful Espada who ran in and protected her through everything.

_"_Woman, where are the ones who should have replaced me?" he demanded abruptly looking around the deserted room.

"Oh that," Orihime toyed with a bit of her skirt, "um, they're in the medical wing," he raised an eyebrow, "I told you I wanted to save you! I just had to use Tsubaki to do it," she bit her lip nervously before his thumb gently moved it so he could kiss her again.

"Thank you," he said softly.

Orihime smiled and leaned forward, kissing him again.


	11. Pride

"This is weird."

Lips around the straw of her juice box, Rukia looked up at Ichigo's scowling face. The two were eating lunch at school, Rukia spending time in the real world again was back as a student. Ichigo though looked troubled. His bento was mostly untouched, a rarity for a boy whose stomach had been compared to a garbage disposal. Rukia slowly lowered her juice box and looked at him, confusion in her eyes. There were nay number of things that could be troubling him, she was honestly not sure which was at the forefront of her mind.

"I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm happy they're not joined at the hip anymore but its just--its weird."

He was talking about _them_.

Rukia tried not to cringe. Like the rest of them she had very mixed feelings on the subject of Ulquiorra and Orihime's strange relationship. She had, like the rest of them, learned to accept the ebony haired, emerald eyed man who was just _always_ there. It was hard not to accept him. She had always wondered, albeit vaguely, how Ichigo felt when she had shown up at school that first day and told him she'd kill him if he made a scene. Well the day that Ulquiorra walked through the doors as if nothing had happened was the day she found out. It was a wildly unpleasant feeling, one she would not care to repeat experiencing. Unfortunately there was no organization that had sent him, no mission to complete, just a man who had once been their enemy and now made no effort to be their friend. Not that something that simple had ever stopped Orihime Inoue from talking to a person. Somehow they all found themselves spending time with him. It would be a stretch to say that he and Ichigo were friends but then again, the stretch was nowhere what it had been.

Sado had been the most calm of them when it came to the Espada. As it turned out, Ulquiorra was a well of hidden information as well as appreciating Sado's love of music--and getting his name right. That, the fact they both had tattoos and the fact that Sado was on something of a green kick in his brightly colored shirts helped the two of them tolerate each other the most. Naturally Rukia was far more inclined to beat him, Ichigo who had already done it was hot on her heels but Ulquiorra said he had no interest in fighting either of them and given how he left things with her, the only person who Ichigo fought for months following his return was Tatsuki. Ishida of course chalked it up to something called Stockholm syndrome and suggested Orihime needed mental help in order to deal with what had happened and her sudden loyalty to Ulquiorra.

That theory had been blown out of the water exactly three days ago.

Being enemies the simple fact was that neither Rukia nor Orihime had realized that for people who did not know his history, Ulquiorra was a very attractive person. Tall with his shaggy dark hair and piercing emerald eyes, many many girls seemed to think that he was 'hot'. For all his 'my eye sees everything' persona, Ulquiorra was actually rather blind when it came to the world of high school where practicality was not something that applied. He was, of course, completely oblivious to the fact that most of the female student body was swooning over him. He talked to girls because seemed to be talking to everyone. It did not seem to register that the fact he gave practical, bare minimum answers to the girls gave him a bad boy persona that had them positively fawning over him.

Three days ago one of them had grabbed the poor, oblivious former Espada by his shirt collar and kissed him.

Right in front of Orihime.

It was then that they learned that they were as blind as Ulquiorra when Orihime marched over to him, tore the girl off him, backhanded the former Espada and declared that she never wanted to see him again before storming off in the opposite direction. None of them had even been aware the two were more than friends--much less that they were romantically involved. Poor Ulquiorra had been completely stunned both by the nameless girl that kissed him and the fact that the girlfriend that no-one knew he had had just slapped him and told him that she never wanted to see him again. They all chalked the fact he did not go running after her up to pride--that or he was still in shock and by the time he realized she was gone it was too late. Three days later and the two of them were still not speaking. They were having something that none of them thought was even possible: they were having a normal, couples fight.

"It is weird," Rukia agreed, "I feel like we're torn between them."

Ichigo glared but had to agree. The rest of them hadn't known who to side with. The obvious choice was Orihime but suddenly they realized that Ulquiorra had become part of their group without them even realizing it. So true to teenage form they did nothing, dividing their time between the two of them and refusing to take sides. It was _weird_, having friends that were dating and currently fighting. Things were so much easier somehow when the matters were life and death. In high school things just seemed more--well, more complicated.

The most frightening thing was that while Ulquiorra acted like his usual why-the-hell-should-I-care-self, Orihime seemed to have taken to acting like, well, like him. To say it was odd to see a cold Orihime Inoue was a massive understatement. It was odd and weird and a thousand things that no-one could really understand. Orihime was supposed to help balance Ulquiorra's more callous personality with her bright and cheery manner. Now though she just as cold as was--almost like she was trying to give him a taste of his own medicine.

The best part was that it was working.

Down below them Ulquiorra was wondering exactly how much effort it would take to kill someone with the chopsticks he had in his hands. Despite growing up significantly during their time together, there remained an innate innocence and cheerfulness about Orihime. He _knew_ it was still there, if repeated threats to torture her hadn't broken her spirit than an accidental act of infidelity would not do so. Which meant one thing: she was doing this on purpose. He had learned that his cold personality made him attractive to the opposite sex, something that he had not really been aware of. His relationship with Orihime was--or had been--far too complicated to chalk up to simple, primal attraction. He would not deny that she was attractive but something as--as _emotional_ as that, it was something he would never think he would fall prey too.

Not until Orihime started acting like an ice queen.

She was sitting directly in his viewpoint, ignoring him despite his heated stare as she had been for the past few days. Instead of wearing her hair down as she usually did, she had taken to pulling it back leaving the arch of her neck exposed. Her fairy hairpins were still in place along with a dark clip that kept her hair up. All but one strand that fell from the style. It was tucked absently behind her ear leaving her features exposed before trailing onto her shoulder. He couldn't take his eyes off it. Or the long legs that were exposed by the short length of her skirt. They were crossed as she held a book open in her lap. Her soft bottom lip was caught between her teeth as her eyes scanned the page of the book, her long fingers just teasing the edge of the paper.

He could walk over there and talk to her but she would give cold, curt, replies that would have him torn between wanting to strangle her and wanting to push her against the wall and claim her in front of the entire school. Neither was a good idea so he sat where he was, wishing all kinds of death on girls an their taunting ways. He had not known what tat girl was going to do. Truly he hadn't until her lips were on his, her tongue shoved into his mouth. He was too shocked to do anything and the fact that her leg was dangerously close to his crotch made it impossible for him to move without either making the situation worse or endangering his, uh, other sword. He would have apologized too if when he had gone to talk to her she hadn't answered him so coldly. He had been too stunned to talk, much less apologize for something that hadn't technically been his fault.

Now though he was just going to go insane.

He was acting like a--like a _teenager_.

Ulquiorra dropped the chopsticks, wondering how it was that he thought for an instant that he was in charge of her. He as pretty sure that the entire time in Las Noches she probably knew that she'd be fine and he was just being ridiculous. And then when she said everything was fine she was probably just _waiting_ for the moment when she could pull something like this on him. It was no wonder that Aizen just had one female Espada. Anymore and no work would ever get done because girls were manipulative creatures who were put in the world to torture the poor men stupid enough to be in love with them. He threw out his uneaten lunch, knowing that he wasn't going to be able to eat thanks to the disgust coursing through him. He was pathetic when it came to her. He always had been. He should have just strapped her down and given her IVs from the beginning, before she sunk those claws into him.

Before he realized what he was doing he walked over to her. Her only response was to let out a small sigh, turn the page of her book and scratch an itch high on her thigh. Ulquiorra's mouth seemed to dry up at the sight of the red lines her fingers left so high on the pale skin. Instead of blushing or pulling the skirt down, Orihime simply let it stay where it was, moving her hand up to brush the lock of her hair back, completely ignoring the fact that he was standing right in front of her.

"You've made your point," he said, his voice a cool monotone despite the heat inside him.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," she said, her practically matching his.

"Woman," he began.

Orihime ignored him as she closed the book and got to her feet, flicking her hair back and turning to go. He would _not_ grab her. Grabbing her meant touching her and while his control snapping was a concern, he would not touch her because that meant that the tables had been reversed and he as officially acting like _her_ which was something his pride would never allow.

So he stepped in front of her.

"Wo--"

"I _am_ a woman," she said drawing herself up with haughty indignation, her voice still cool, "my _name_ is Orihime."

She glared at him for a moment before she sidestepped him and walked into the building before he could get a word past the block in his throat.

It wasn't until the pain from his nails digging into his palms registered that he was able to jerk himself out of his stupor and go after her. Walking was probably the wrong word, he stormed after her, his emerald eyes furious as he picked his way through the students milling about. The thing that slowed him down the most was the fact that the boys that seemed to have always thought she was attractive now seemed to be tripping over themselves. Only his furious glare kept them from being stupid enough to approach her. The fact that the _idea_ had crossed their minds was enough make him sure that they were going to deal with this problem _now_ before anyone was stupid enough to make a move on her.

Finally as she was passing a deserted classroom he swallowed his pride and acted, grabbing her arm and pulling her inside, closing the door behind her before she could so much as move. Anger sparked in the cold fury of her gaze as all the blood that circulated through him seemed to fly south for the winter. She glared right back up at him, her grey eyes not shying away from his emerald ones. But then again, why would they? She had never been afraid of him, not really anyway. Even her so-called breakdown on the battlefield had been centered around _Kurosaki_, not his new form. Now that they were both there looking completely normal she had absolutely no reason to be afraid of him, even though they were in a darkened classroom.

"What do you want?" she demanded, her voice still cool and haughty as she glared up at him.

Words were useless to him.

Grabbing her and kissing her was the _only_ thing he could do.

For all her anger she met his lips with the same raw eagerness as he kissed her, her fingers burying themselves in the fabric of his shirt. His own wrapped around her narrow waist, crushing her body against his as he ignored the small part of him that was desperate to figure out what the hell he was doing. It didn't matter. All that mattered was that the odd melody of flavors that hit him when he kissed her were there again. Her weight was heavy in his arms as she practically melted into the kiss, the ice queen becoming the spring princess once again. Her arms moved from his shirt to wrap around his shoulders as his own moved in response to her change in attitude.

Neither heard the bell for their next class.

Later when they both got detention for missing said class neither really minded. Ulquiorra focused on his work, finally able to thank to the fact that Orihime had her hair down and the usual smile on her lips.

Orihime on the other hand wrote a letter.

_Dear Matsumoto_

_It worked!_

_

* * *

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**I have no excuse for this except I wanted to write something fun and lighthearted. There. **

**Hope you enjoyed.**

**Oh and also, there was some confusion over this last time. This story is listed as COMPLETE because each oneshot is a stand alone story or a followup. This isn't a multi-chapter story with cliffies and all that goodness.**

**However, if you enjoy that sort of thing on my profile there are much longer Ulquihime goodies:**

**Almost Lovers: 5 chapters of Ulquihime goodness with a plot. Started out angsty, didn't exactly end up that way.**

**Silent Force/Arcana: this is my first big Ulquihime-duo story--well stories since Arcana is the sequel. Its long and dramatic and a totally awesome thing, or so people tell me. Hell I like it too. Warning is that it does have other couples and I know sometimes people don't like others. So if you're worried you can PM me and I'll forewarn you if a couple you hate is in it.**

**Oh!**

**Dwellin has once again blown my socks off with a fantastic piece of art inspired by the story! Go check it out--check out her whole gallery! She's a wonderful wonderful artist who does great work. Her Bleach fanart is among my favorites on the site. **

**Okay more oneshots soon. **


	12. Verde & Lago

Something was wrong.

Ulquiorra's eyes snapped open with the instinct time that came only from years of highly honed fighting. The rain hitting the window was the first sound to register in his ears. A flash of lightening illuminated the bedroom, casting its creme walls and pale wood furniture into sharp relief. There was not an inch of white or cold or endless night in the bedroom but, then again, there was no reason for there to be. Pictures stood on the dresser, along with a jewelry box designed just for a pair of blue flower hairpins. The bed he was on was large enough to take up a portion of the room, the soft green duvet pulled up high on his chest and that of the bed's other occupant.

Orihime shifted against him as if sensing distress, her features furrowing. Ulquiorra tightened his arms around her in a silent gesture of comfort, the soft cotton of her pajama bottoms and tank top moving against his hands. Orihime's features smoothed out as she stilled again, her trust in him still stirring feelings inside Ulquiorra he never thought he would feel. Leaning over her he brushed back a lock of sunset hair and pressed a kiss to her temple before disentangling himself and getting out of bed. Dressed in just a t-shirt and pair of sweat pants jokingly decorating with cartoon bats, Ulquiorra walked out of the bedroom he shared with her and had for some time now. Behind him Orihime rolled over, stealing his side of the bed while somehow maintaing her dominance over hers. Ulquiorra felt his lips curve into a smile as he turned and walked down the hallway.

The house was in Karakura Town, something he had been less than thrilled about initially but Orihime had been dead set on. He supposed it if really mattered they could have moved somewhere else but there were advantages to living there that even he couldn't deny. Though the house they lived in was a far cry from her tiny apartment that she lived her girlhood in, she had brought the property and rented it out to people who needed it for almost nothing. She would have let them stay free if their pride would have let them agree. Her gestures of generosity had become far less confusing to him over the years but they never really ceased to amaze him. As he had learned even if he understood things he could still be amazed by them.

And then there were things he would never fully understand.

Finally arriving at the half open door he walked fully inside, his feet silent even though there was no real reason for it. After all, there was no enemy to attack them, no reason for the warrior instinct that still came in sue on the battlefield to exist in the sanctity of the house--of their home. But some things were far too deeply ingrained to just be turned off at a whim. So he was silent as he approached the figure illuminated by the faint of light that made it through the clouds. It was a misshapen blob, a quivering misshapen blob that looked far more like an early stage of one of Urahara's strange experiments. It looked like it belonged in the Urahara lab instead of in the middle of his house, but belong it did. A crack of lightening had the quivering increase as a squeak came from the blob. Ulquiorra quickly crossed the room to where it was.

Reaching out he pulled the cowboy comforter back from the quivering child it hid.

"Daddy!"

He had a glimpse of bright grey eyes and dark hair before he suddenly found his arms full of the form of a six year old boy who was petrified of storms. Just like his mother tended to do the boy locked his arms around Ulquiorra in a death grip that, had it come from anyone else, Ulquiorra would probably have impaled them for doing. But just like when his mother did it, that was not the case. Instead Ulquiorra's arms came around the boy instantly, a gesture as instinctive as his quiet walk.

"Its alright, Sora," he soothed the boy, his son, "its just a storm."

Sora Schiffer pulled back to look tearfully at his father. Naturally Sora had his mother's light skin but considering the amount of time he spent playing with the other kids he was tan. His dark hair fell across his features, shaggy and long, he was in need of a haircut. His eyes were like his mother's, grey and expressive. At the moment they were fearful and tear soaked as they looked at him with all the trust in the world before the boy buried his face back in his father's shoulder, his arms tightening around his father's neck.

Orihime's pregnancy had come as a shock to them all, far more shocking even then when she had agreed to marry him. The second she told him he was at the Urahara shop, intent on putting the blond man in a body bag. Apparently though, this had happened before when Isshin Kurosaki got Masaki pregnant. Urahara told him that sometimes things like that happened and if Orihime was anything like Masaki it was probably a good idea for Ulquiorra to go back to his wife before _he_ was the one in a body bag instead of Urahara. Almost nine months later Isshin Kurosaki handed him a bundle of screaming baby and he had almost puthimself in a body bag with the sheer force of the emotions that coursed through him as he looked at the teeny tiny human that he and his wife had created.

Naturally Sora had been the subject of much intrigue. After all given what Ichigo could do, having a half human child was something that people were very curious about. If he was going to develop any powers it wasn't going to be for a while though. At the moment Sora was just a normal kid--or as normal as the child of two very powerful entities could be. He scraped his knees and wreaked havoc on everything his arms could reach. He had his security toy--a stuffed bat the Ulquiorra was definitely going to _murder_ Ichigo Kurosaki or Kisuke Urahara for giving him as soon as he found out which one it was--and his phobias of monsters in the closet and storms. Especially storms. One of the hands around his neck moved as Sora grabbed his toy bat before continuing to hug his father.

"Make it stop," he pleaded, "you've got wings daddy, you can fly up there and get the moon back."

"You know that rain's important," he said. Sora looked up at him, "without rain all the plants would dry up. Mommy's flowers, the grass that you seem to love to roll around in."

"Would the veggies that you make me eat dry up too?" he asked.

"No. They'd be the only things that are left," he said.

Sora gasped in horror at the idea that he'd just have to eat vegetables. Ulquiorra smiled. Sora hated vegetables almost as much as Orihime did. He wound up doing most of the cooking since the things that Orihime made were only edible to, well, to Orihime. They were working on that though. She was a good cook it was more her choice of ingredients than anything else. Sora clutched his bat tighter, too disgusted with the idea of vegetables being the only thing left to eat to still be terrified at the storm. Ulquiorra glanced at the window to see that the storm had begun to lessen, the thunder and lightening was almost nonexistent while the rain was becoming lighter.

"See?" Ulquiorra looked at the window "the storm's almost over."

"Really?" Sora turned his head towards the window, clutching the bat tighter, "its almost over."

"That's right," Ulquiorra said.

Sora nodded, his eyes already struggling to stay open. The boy was such an active kid that bed time hadn't been a problem for him since he was very young. Ulquiorra gently moved him onto the bed, pulling the comforter up high and tucking his son in. Sora burrowed into the pillow, his stuffed animal clutched tightly to his chest. How the boy could be so fearless when it came to those things but petrified of storms, Ulquiorra was sure he would never understand. He gently pushed the boy's hair back and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

"Night daddy," Sora mumbled rolling onto his stomach.

"Good nights Sora," Ulquiorra replied.

Slowly he got to his feet and walked to the door. He glanced behind him to see Sora was completely asleep by the time he got to the door. Ulquiorra slipped out of the room and headed down the hallway to go back to bed. One of the doors was opened, one that had not been previously so when he had walked to his son's room. Ulquiorra nudged the door open fully and stepped into the room. Standing there by the open window was his wife. In her arms was their daughter. Both of them had their hands out the window as raindrops hit their fingers.

"See Yuuka?" Orihime said, "its like the sky's washing our hands."

The same announcement of 'I'm pregnant' was followed by the same 'I'm going to go and murder Kisuke Urahara'. Just like before after a relatively uneventful nine months, or as uneventful as their lives ever got, Yuuka Schiffer came into the world. Unlike her brother she had wound up with her mother's bright sunset hair. Both the children had her eyes though. She might have had her own set of phobias, storms was not one of them. On the contrary, when Yuuka could not figure something out she had to learn everything she could about it--something Orihime insisted she got from _him. _Both of them turned as he stepped into the room. Yuuka giggled and buried her face in her mother's shoulder as Orihime withdrew their hands and closed the window.

"I told you everything was alright," he said.

"And you were very sweet to let me sleep. Yuuka on the other hand had some questions."

"I wanted to touch the rain daddy but you were talking to Sora so I had to get mommy. 'sides, you wouldn't let me touch it."

"So you went to mommy," he said, impressed by his daughter's ingenuity.

"Mommy says yes," was the reply.

Orihime laughed brightly as Yuuka Schiffer gave a grin that was far too bright and innocent for him to be upset at the child. Orihime walked over to where he stood, their daughter still in her arms. Immediately she reached for him, her small arms going around his neck.

"Mommy says yes huh?" he asked, "next your going to go to Ichigo Kurosaki because he 'says yes'."

"Uh huh," Yuuka said bobbing her head, "'cept when Auntie Ruki hits him--or Uncle Uryuu, Auntie Tatsuki or Uncle Sado--"

"Now I know you're making things up," Ulquiorra said to his daughter, "Uncle Sado hasn't hit anyone in a very long time."

"Well of course not," she said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, "No-one does anything to make him mad. Have you seen Uncle Sado's fists?"

"I've seen what Uncle Sado's fists can do to someone," he said.

"But that," Orihime jumped in, "is a story for another _day_," she arched an eyebrow at her husband who quickly nodded, "alright darling, we have learned that rain gets you wet and disobeyed your father--I think that is more than enough for one night," she said.

"But I'm not sleepy," she protested looking at her mother from the protective arms of her father.

"Come on," Ulquiorra said, "you close your eyes and before you know it, you'll be sound asleep," he said walking over to her bed. Yuuka pouted and tightened her arms around his shoulders in protest, "I know, I know, daddy's evil," he said laying her down on the bed.

"SIlly daddy, you could never be evil," she said, "thats like saying Sora's not afraid of storms."

"Now now," Ulquiorra said, "you and your brother are different people. You wouldn't like it if a cat was here."

"Cat?" Yuuka yanked her blanket up higher, her eyes darting around.

"There's no cat," Orihime said quickly, "daddy was just pointing out that you shouldn't make fun of your brother's fear of storms."

Ulquiorra smiled down at his daughter. Though he did not like any of his children having things they were afraid of, he did like the fact that he would never have to get a cat. Some things he doubted that he would ever like--like cats or anything cat-related. Stupid Grimmjow Jeagerjaques. Orihime leaned down and kissed their daughter's head. Yuuka smiled up at her parents before burrowing deep into her blankets. Bending down Ulquiorra picked up an identical stuffed bat, only this one happened to be a rather violent shade of pink. He looked over at Orihime who smiled and plucked the toy from his fingers, tucking it in with their daughter as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

"Night mommy, night daddy, night Lago."

"Goodnight sweetheart," Orihime said.

"Goodnight," Ulquiorra said as the two of them walked quietly out of the room. Ulquiorra closed the door, "Lago?"

"Well its not like our daughter can pronounce _Murcielago_," she said slipping a lock of hair behind her ear, "Besides, Sora named his Verde."

"Thats just because Sado taught him three words in Spanish. But Lago is new," he said, "Urahara is going to--"

"Get a thank you card written in crayons," Orihime cut him off, "is Sora alright?"

"Sound asleep," he told her.

"Did you have to get out of your gigai?" she asked anxiously. He shook his head, "oh thank goodness."

Despite their desire to keep their children as sheltered as they could, they had decided that it would be far less traumatic if they were acclimatized to their father's true form. Though the children had shown no fear towards Ulquiorra with his bone pale skin and broken helmet, they did decide that he could probably scare away any monsters that lived under the bed or in the closet or anywhere else that they could think of. Though he spent most of his time in a very well adjusted gigai, it seemed that his form was now official not frightening to, well, to no one. Had he ever been frightening? He seriously doubted it. Shocking, maybe but frightening, frightening was probably pushing it.

Orihime stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him. Ulquiorra slipped his arms around her body, his smile coming with the ease and familiarity of a long used gesture. Orihime smiled. She loved moments with her family but she loved moments like this as well, when it was just the two of them in their little house in Karakura town. Suddenly the soft carpet under her feet disappeared as her husband swept her up in his arms. Orihime laughed and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Is it time for me to go to bed too?" she asked with a bright smile.

"Yes," he said, "would you like to go and ask someone else to try and undermine me?"

Orihime laughed and shook her head, pressing her lips against his in a soft kiss as Ulquiorra carried her back to the bedroom, leaving the door open behind him just enough so that if one of the kids needed them they could hear it. But Sora was asleep in his room, Verde clutched to his chest while down the hall Yuuka hugged Lago and turned on her side to face the window.

Outside rain continued to fall softly but inside the house, all was well.

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**Okay so I hope you all don't have cavities after that one. I thought that with all the stories that have couples jumped into the future with kids--well Ulquiorra and Orihime needed one too.**

**Sora is the name (or one of them) of Orihime's brother, Verde is Green in Spanish.**

**Yuuka means 'gentle flower' in Japanese and Lago is the end part in Murcielago**

**So the next one is going to be a sort of fantasy AU which I'm having a lot of fun writing. Its gonna be long though. **


	13. Saints

**READ ME**

**This is a FOLLOWUP to SINNERS. I think there are eventually going to be 3 of them. **

**Oh and in the last chapter I said there would be a fantasy AU story. That story has been MOVED. It is an independent story called Terebellum. It will not be as long as many of the other ones--hopefully. Anyway its a lot of fun and I've never done an AU so I'd be interested to hear what you think.**

**Anyway enjoy!**

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"What did you do?!"

Orihime gave no response to the furious shout. What response could she possibly give that would offer any sort of satisfaction to the distraught man in front of her? He did not want to hear what she had to say anyway. No, the only thing that he wanted was to hear her admit that what she had done was wrong, that saving _his_ life was foolish. But Orihime did not feel that way. How could she feel that way? Life was life. No matter what, there was never any harm in saving it. Especially not when the coldness, the cruelty all came from confusion rather than an outright desire to do harm.

Or so she hoped.

When she raised her eyes to lock with Ichigo Kurosaki's tortured amber ones, she could see so clearly how she was in love with him. He looked every inch the beacon of light and truth that she knew he was. Even when he was in those horrible, nightmare forms the image of him looking like he did usually, the bright orange haired prince, that was the image she kept in her mind. Even now as he yelled and demanded answers he did not want to hear from her silent lips, she kept that image in her mind and felt the familiar stirring in her heart. She really did have reason to be in love with Ichigo Kurosaki and, worse still, she _was_ in love with him. She had never thought of that as a bad thing. Not before everything had changed anyway.

Slowly she rose to her feet, her muscles aching terribly with the action. She was still in her torn dress, still looking like someone who had just been rescued and then forced to help in a war. At the moment though, all she wanted in the world was to shower. Ichigo's eyes widened as she moved past him. One of his hands reached out and grasped her wrist. Orihime squeezed her eyes tightly shut at the harsh, warm grip. His hand felt _hot_, almost painfully so. How long had it been since a living, breathing person had touched her like that? Too long. It felt like his skin was being branded into her own, like she was being marked again as Orihime Inoue, the bright innocent girl with the flowers in her hair.

With a muffled sound she tore her arm free of his grasp, unable to stand his touch for another heartbeat.

"Inoue--"

"I'm going to clean up," she said, not caring at her choked voice as she walked to the bathroom with as much composure as she could muster.

Inside the bathroom she closed the door with shaky hands, turning the lock behind her. She closed her eyes and leaned against the door, shutting her eyes tightly. Tears escaped anyway, despite her valiant effort to hold them back. She walked over to the shower and turned the knobs. Water came streaming out of the shower head, the sound unusually loud. Las Noches just had baths, there wasn't a shower in the place. She turned and began the process of undressing herself. It was easy to take off the tatters that had been her sleeves, just a strong tug and they were gone. She had kicked off the boots at the door but the stocks were easy to take off as well. It was hard to undo the buttons on her spine but she managed those as well, sliding the tattered remains of her dress into a heap on the ground with the other cloths. Her undergarments landed on the pile shortly after. She wished she could burn the damn things, she never wanted to see them again.

Stepping into the shower Orihime let the hot water run over her body, slicking her long hair to her scalp. She hadn't realized how long her hair had gotten. Orihime took a deep breath and focused on that, just one simple task at a time. Washing her hair, shaving her legs, washing her face--all of it was methodical and almost second nature. It was funny but if she closed her eyes and breathed in the familiar aroma of her shampoo she could imagine that everything had just been a dream, neither good nor bad, just a dream. Nothing was really good or bad unto itself anyway. It was just a jarring dream. But then, when she went to wash her body she _felt _ the proof. When she opened her eyes she saw the bruises that decorated her body, she felt the tender skin around her eye where it had almost been plucked out. Her muscles were relaxed by the warm water but she was still bruised.

Still damaged.

She was too tired to cry, the weariness that seeped through her seemed to prevent her from feeling the ability to do that. Maybe she had just cried all her tears. People had limits. If they bled too much they couldn't bleed anymore. There was probably a limit to tears as well. But people made more blood. She would probably make more tears too. Then she would be a sobbing wreck once again. Her fingers clenched around the loofa she held. _No_, no she would not go to pieces. Not again, not because of this. She had done nothing wrong. Nothing at all. Her fingers loosened as she closed her eyes and leaned against the warmed tile, her eyes drifting shut. She had done nothing wrong, nothing at all. She was so tired. She felt as though she had no strength in her limbs, like bathing herself had taken all the strength from her insides. Slowly she slid down the tile, sitting down in the warm water that swirled from the drain.

Dimly she heard someone knocking on the door. Her eyes opened as much as her heavy eyelids would allow before they closed of their own accord. She felt water on her cheek and realized that she was laying down. She felt so _drained_, so exhausted, all she wanted to do was sleep. Maybe everyone would stop yelling at her--or at least she wouldn't be able to hear them if she was asleep. The fact that she was in the shower wasn't important. It was not like the inch of water was going to kill her. It actually felt nice, the water pounding on her leg. At least it felt real. Surrounded by the smells of home she closed her eyes and wondered why she wished for the cool and white and dark again.

"Stop i--what are you doing?! She's naked in there!"

The door slammed.

"Woman--woman!" there was the sound of footsteps and a hand gripped her cheek, "Open your eyes!"

At the naked urgency in the voice, Orihime forced her grey eyes open as much as she could. The world was water slicked and foggy but she could make out the sharp emerald of his eyes. His skin felt warm against her own, warm and soft, not hard like it had been. That was right, she had healed him. Not just his injuries but _all_ of him. Every hole, every gap she had filled it in. There were no tears on his face, no helmet on his head, he looked normal and ordinary and annoyed and worried. Her eyes struggled to focus before her lids began to lower once again. They were just too heavy. Her limbs were too heavy. Everything was too heavy and at the same time, it was empty.

Hands were at her shoulders and knees, turning her over and sliding between her body and the floor. She felt the ground move away and spared a moment of mourning for the sudden lack of warmth as chills raced across her body. She felt herself being braced against his chest as a towel was pulled around her body. Even in the new form his movements were smooth and efficient as he wound the fabric around her body, securing it before he picked her up again and walked out of the bathroom. She wanted to tell him to turn the shower off but her lips did not seem to work. Or maybe it was her voice box. Or her vocal chords. Whatever should be working, it was not.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" Ichigo shouted.

"You _fool_! Do you really think Aizen did not consider this possibility? Nothing was left to chance including the possibility that you would rescue her," she could hear the furious tone in Ulquiorra's voice. His voice sounded so _alive_ now, "she cannot leave Hueco Mundo."

"What?!"

"I informed you that rescuing her would change nothing," he said, his voice remaining harsh, "she has no Spiritual Pressure."

"That's impossible," he said.

Orihime shivered, her body moving closer to the warmth that Ulquiorra was radiating. He looked down at the wet, towel clad woman in his arms and tried again to stuff down the feelings raging inside him. He had woken to the house, surrounded by enemies and very confused. One look at his hand though and he realized that she had healed him. Not just his injuries in the fight. No she had healed _everything_. The anger, the hatred, everything that had made him a Hollow she had fixed. He had woken up to discover he was, without a doubt, not an Espada anymore. He was not sure what he was but there was no time to question what he had become. He had to deal with the fact that probably the only person who could explain it to him was, if not dead, then certainly dying.

He had to help her.

"Her natural spiritual Pressure has been blocked. She's been surviving on the concentrated Spiritual Particles in Hueco Mundo. There is _nowhere_ that is more concentrated. If she stays here she will die."

"I'll give her Spiritual Power," he said.

"You have no Spiritual Power to give," he said. Orihime whimpered, drawing their eyes to her, "there is no time!" Ulquiorra said harshly, "get me to someone who can open a portal to Hueco Mundo _now_ or she is going to die."

Ichigo stared at Ulquiorra, uncomprehending. Orihime was wet and wrapped in a towel, Ulquiorra was human and he was holding her. Ichigo felt fury surge through him. He wanted to rip Ulquiorra limb from limb, as he had been so close to doing not too long ago. But Orihime looked so pale and scared, broken in a way that he had not seen he before. He had seen her broken emotionally and hurt physically but in his arms, she looked like she was dying. He reached out to see if he could feel her Spiritual Pressure and discovered he could not. His own was severely weakened by the fight but hers, hers was like a flickering like a dying flame. He could barely feel it. His eyes widened as he looked up at the man he considered his enemy.

"The Urahara Shop," he said, "its a few blocks from here."

It was fortunate that it was so late outside. They hurried to the shop along streets that were deserted. The Urahara shop was not far from Orihime's apartment thankfully. Ichigo threw open the trap door, letting them into the still illuminated training room where he had first learned to master his powers.

"Urahara opened one here," he said looking around, "he's got to have something that'll let us do--" he looked around, his eyes landing on the beam where he opened the portal "it," he finished softly hurrying over to it.

Dangling from the beam was a note on a string. He turned it around to see Ulquiorra's familiar handwriting.

_Thought this might come in handy for you two, in case you forgot something in H.M._

_Pull me!_

_~Urahara_

Ichigo turned to Ulquiorra and Orihime. The note said 'two', that meant the portal was going to allow two to go. He was going to have to let Ulquiorra and Orihime go without him. He had defeated Ulquiorra, he had saved Orihime. Then, of course, Orihime had healed Ulquiorra and now Ulquiorra was going to have to save Orihime. He had taken her from Hueco Mundo only now it seemed that she was going to have to go back. Ulquiorra stepped forward, his emerald eyes flashing. It seemed that he too wanted to murder Ichigo. Well, that at least, had not changed.

"Only the two of you can go," he said.

"We have to go _now_ or she's going to die," he said.

"You hurt her--"

"Kurosaki if you do not open the portal what I do to her will be irrelevant because she will be dead."

Ichigo yanked the cord.

The portal connected.

They were gone.

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When Orihime became aware of herself she was very warm.

Not sick warm, no this was the kind of warmth that came from the multitude of blankets that were tucked firmly around her. The bed she was on was familiar. Orihime forced her eyes open. She recognized the white room she was in, the moonlight coming softly through the window near her bed. She could feel that she was in a towel underneath all the blankets. Her hair felt dry as well, dry despite the fact that the last thing she remembered was falling asleep in the rain--or was it the shower? If she was in a towel it was probably a shower. The door opened and she shut her eyes quickly, trying to act asleep.

"You cannot pretend to sleep woman, you are horrible at it."

Like a guilty child she peeped one eye open, then another. Ulquiorra was standing there looking just as human as her foggy eyes had seen. No bone white skin, no tear marks, no broken helmet, just pale skin and bright green eyes and shaggy dark hair. Without the helmet it was not held to his forehead. She hadn't realized how long his hair was. Or how emotional his eyes were. If she was in a towel that meant that someone had gotten her out of the shower and wrapped her in a towel. She had a feeling that was Ulquiorra, not Ichigo. He had seen her naked. She felt heat stained her cheeks at the idea. Ulquiorra walked over, looking down at her with his cool authoritarian stare.

But she saw the worry in his eyes.

"Are we in Las Noches?" she asked looking up at him. He gave a curt nod, "what happened?"

"You have no Spiritual Pressure of your own. You exist on the Spiritual Pressure that is here, you need the concentration of Spiritual Particles to exist."

"Oh," she looked down at the white pillow under her head, "I always wondered," she trailed off, her voice soft, "i always wondered why you went through the trouble of making me eat the food."

Ulquiorra just looked at her, not sure how to reply to that. he did not realize that she had picked up on the fact that he had no intention of following through on the threats of IVs. Aizen had been explicit in his instructions that she had to eat the food. He had simply believed that the threat of the consequences were enough for her to obey. He did not think she was smart enough to have realized what was going on. Apparently it was just another in the long list of things that he had not realized about Orihime Inoue.

"I thought Las Noches would have been destroyed," she said, "Aizen died and we all fought--"

"There is a core structure here that is not connected to Aizen's Spiritual Power," he said, "the size is significantly less but it is capable of sustaining life."

For a moment they were silent. She was trying to digest the information and he was trying to resist the urge to ask her the questions swimming through him. He had been far more in control of himself before she did what she did. Now it seemed that the control he had was shattered. He was surprised he hadn't cried real tears yet. It seemed that he had some scrap of dignity left. He moved to the closet of the room and pulled out the oversized cloths. her own were gone. They might have been masculine but they would do the trick.

"Your strength should be returning," he said dropping them onto the bed, "get dressed."

He turned and walked out.

Orihime watched him go, wondering why, for the first time, she wanted to call him back.

Forcing the feelings aside she pushed the blankets aside and grabbed the garments on the bed. They were masculine and big but she didn't care as she did up the buttons and finished dressing herself. With every heartbeat she seemed to be getting stronger as her body fed off the heightened density of Spiritual Particles. Walking over to the door she pulled it open to see Ulquiorra standing beside the opposite wall, his emerald eyes fixed on her. Orihime tried to resist the urge to toy with her shirt, her eyes lowering to the floor.

"You should not have done what you did."

Orihime's eyes widened as her head flew up to look at him. Ulquiorra continued to look at her.

"Huh? But--"

"Your actions were foolish," he said.

"If I didn't do what I did we'd both be dead right now!"

He seemed genuinely surprised at her outburst. Orihime felt surprised as well. She didn't think she had yelled at someone in a while. Ulquiorra's eyes narrowed as Orihime met his gaze evenly, aware of the fact that the thing that bound them together, his orders, was no longer a factor. They _won_, Aizen was dead. Ulquiorra had survived and now they were intertwined. Abruptly Ulquiorra crossed the space between them. Out of instinct Orihime took a step back, her back hitting the wall as he came to stop almost when they were toe to toe.

"You _made_ me a human!" he shouted, his voice plainly furious as it echoed down the deserted hallway.

"You were human," she said.

"That was a very long time ago, woman," he said, "and I was not stranded in a place such as this, surrounded by cannibalistic Hollows who will not hesitate to eat us."

Orihime swallowed thickly, trying not to give in to the worry and guilt churning through her. He had a very good point. Of course she had not known that she had been given something that would force her to return to Hueco Mundo after everyone who could have helped her was killed. Now she was stranded with a man she had turned into, well, into a man. She had not expected him to be happy about the situation but she had not expected outright anger. It was so easy to see the emotions written on his face. Orihime truly did not know what to make of the new Ulquiorra, was he always going to be this emotional? She imagined it was jarring, what she had done to him. For that she felt guilty, but not for healing him. That she could not feel guilty for.

"What do we do?" she asked.

We.

The woman wanted to know what they were supposed to do. He had no answer for her. He knew that he had to get her back to Hueco Mundo and what was left of Las Noches was the safest place. But he did not know what exactly Aizen had done to her. He had followed orders. He did not have orders anymore. Staying alive seemed like a good idea--he was being sarcastic. He was instinctively being sarcastic. Ulquiorra suddenly was struck by the desire to smack his head against the wall. He had thought she was _un_making him, not making him into a human. For that alone he was going to find a way to become an Arrancar again so he could kill Ichigo. This was somehow Ichigo's fault, he wasn't sure how, but it somehow was.

"Ulquiorra?" she questioned, trying to get his attention. His green eyes focused on her, "what do we do?"

"Can you _fix_ this?" he demanded motioning to his body.

"I can heal--" she stopped, "no," she said, "I can heal. I undid the damage, I can't un-fix it--I can't break you again."

"I wasn't broken!"

Orihime gaped at him. He looked absolutely livid. Had she just--had she just _offended_ Ulquiorra? He seemed like he was in an emotional overload. Maybe she really had taken it too far. It wasn't like she had ever fixed an Arrancar before. She didn't know the particulars of it and she hoped that she was never going to have to figure it out.

"Well, after that fight, you were a little broken," she said.

Ulquiorra's eyes widened as she looked up at him.

"I preferred you crying," he said.

"Well I liked you with wings," she said raising her chin.

"You weren't frightened?"

"I _told_ you, you aren't frightening," she said raising her chin, "even when you have a tail."

"Are you _mocking_ me, woman?"

"Of course not," she said, "I'm telling you you're not scary," she put her hands on her hips, "and you can call me by my name."

"We are not having this conversation," he said turning and walking down the hallway.

Orihime scrambled after him hurrying down the hallway. Ulquiorra was in regular cloths, clearly his Espada-wardrobe was gone. He looked like a regular pissed off man. Given how she had been dealing with monsters much more than she had been dealing with men.

"Wait, Ulquiorra, I'm sorry," she blurted out.

"I am not interested in your apologies," he replied.

"Don't go wandering off alone--what if there's an Arrancar or something around here?" she questioned, "you said yourself you're human!"

"Perhaps but I am not helpless," he said.

"But I am!"

His foot hesitated. Orihime bit her lip as she looked at him before she forced herself to speak.

"I brought you back because you protected me," she said, "you always made sure that I was alright--even in that fight," she looked at him, "even if it was by orders, i couldn't let you die."

"I am dead," he said.

"Not anymore," she said.

"Do you know what a Hollow is?" he questioned turning around, "someone who cannot let go of their li--"

"My brother was a Hollow."

Ulquiorra stared. Orihime toyed with an edge of the fabric she was wearing.

"My brother, he saved me from my parents when I was a baby," she kept her eyes averted, "they used to hit me when I cried," she paused, touching the side of her face in a nervous habit, "he took me away from them, even though he wasn't really old enough to take care of child. I have family in England but he wanted to stay in Japan. They still send me money to support myself. But Sora, my brother, he took care of me until he died," she touched the hairpins, "he gave me these--" she stopped, hating how it always choked her up to speak about her brother, "we fought that morning. I said I was too old to wear flowered hairpins. That day he got hit by a car, he died before he got to the hospital," she looked up at Ulquiorra and then back at the ground, "he tried to stay and protect me but a Hollow got him. He attacked me as a Hollow but he managed to rip off his mask," she smiled, "we got to say goodbye before he went to Soul Society."

"I've seen the scar on your face," he said finally.

Orihime flushed. She wore her hair in a precise style to hide the scar near her ear. Most people just didn't see it. It was old and faint anyway. Of course Ulquiorra would have seen it though.

"People always take care of me," she said looking up at him, "you were one of the only people i ever got to help."

He held her gaze for a moment longer.

"You really are foolish woman," he said turning and walking down the hallway.

Orihime fell in line with him.

"Hey, Ulquiorra, can we get something to eat? You are hungry right? Now you're human and all."

"The kitchen is this way."

"Great! I can cook!"

"You...can?"

**

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**Oh crap, run Ulqui run!**

**I have no excuse for this. **


	14. Venetian

"Woman this is completely un-necessary."

Orihime kept her eyes focused on the ebony arm in her lap. Regeneration was one thing but even she knew that everyone on the roof was almost out of power. She had fixed Uryuu's hand. The Quincy was standing nearby, his eyes still full of confusion at the fight that had just happened. Ichgio had given them one tortured, guilt filled look and bolted, probably to help their friends. Orihime couldn't help but be glad. After what she had seen she did not know if she would ever be able to look at Kurosaki the same way again. When he had ran off she had made no move to follow him. She had healed Uryuu and then she had turned to her emerald eyed---

She wasn't sure what to call him.

Captor, guardian, protector--they all seemed to fit his all too unclear job description. He had already regenerated part of the wing and his horn that Ichigo had ripped off but she could tell that the adrenaline was wearing off and with that the pain was setting in. Orihime had healed the others, just leaving him there as he was seemed _wrong_. Just because he did not know what a heart was did not mean that she had to act like she had none. So she sat down next to him and began to heal the remaining wounds. Now she was just helping to mature his arm to the point where it wouldn't hurt for him to take his normal form again. He did not fight her, she doubted that he had the strength to do so.

"You can't regenerate anymore," she said, going on the hunch that was the case.

"That is beside the point," he told her cooly.

"Thats completely the point!" she said looking at him, "if you can't regenerate it'll hurt to go back to your sealed form! Why would you want to try to do that if I can help you?"

"Why?" he questioned looking at his captive, his charge, his mission.

"Why not?" she asked returning his gaze evenly before pink stained her cheeks and she looked back at the arm she was healing, "okay I think you're healed," she said finally withdrawing her shield.

Getting to her feet she walked over to where Uryuu was standing, flexing the fingers of his new hand. His eyes followed her movements. When they were not fighting she sometimes caught Uryuu looking at her but he always looked away. When they were fighting though or when she was in danger his eyes never really left hers. Clearly he felt that Ulquiorra was a threat. She walked over calmly though, she did not want to lend into his suspicion and have it look like she was running away from a predator. She extended her hands to him. His cheeks seemed to stain a faint pink but he extended his hand for her. She released her shield, allowing the glow to cover his new limb. She had healed the worst of the injuries first, not sure how long she would be able to keep the healing up. She didn't want anyone to be in pain, especially not Uryuu.

"I'm alright Inoue," he said.

"Its okay Uryuu," she said looking at the glow, "I want to make sure your hand doesn't hurt when that anesthesia wears off."

Uryuu nodded his understanding. His eyes went up to where Ulquiorra was. The Espada had returned to his form, Murcielago tied to his waist. Aside from all their torn cloths, none of them looked like they had been in a battle thanks to Orihime's healing. Orihime gently withdrew her hands from Uryuu's limb when she was satisfied that it was completely healed. Her shield returned to her hairpins. He looked at her anxiously, wondering if the effort of healing one man near death and the other injured far more grievously than he would admit had taxed her but it did not seem that way. The three of them stood on the remains of the place that should have been a graveyard, unsure of what to do.

Orihime reached up and tore off the tattered sleeves and fabric that connected the neckpiece of her dress to the bodice. The fabric came away easily, leaving her in a strapless version of her white dress. She tossed the fabric to the ground, ignoring how the white became red with the spilled blood. Everyone was still alive. War loomed in front of them, this was only the first of many many battles but they had made it through this one. Everyone had made it through. They were all alive. For that, Orihime felt for the first time optimistic about the situation. Not terribly hopeful but hopeful enough that she did not want to throw herself on the ground and sob.

"We should rejoin the others," Uryuu said finally looking down at her.

"Alright," she said, "but there's something I need to do first," she told him turning around and walking over to where Ulquiorra stood.

He watched her with the same cool emerald gaze that he usually tended to, completely unaffected even if the truth was that she had just saved his life. She was a healer, something that for all his regeneration, he would never be. She stopped when they were close enough that if she wanted too she could reach out and touch him. Aside from the time when she had backhanded him and he had touched her when he asked her that question, it was the closest they had ever been. He did not step away without an excuse as to why closeness was not allowed. He simply stood there and watched her.

"Are you going to fight with the others?" she asked him finally.

"No," he said, "my orders are to defend Las Noches," he hesitated for a moment before continuing, "finish your business here and I will allow you to leave."

"We are trapped here," Uryuu said, "Aizen locked us all down here," Ulquiorra's emerald eyes slid to him.

"Then I will give you an exit," he said.

"You'll what?!"

"I will give you an exit," he said, "back to Soul Society. My concern is my mission."

Orihime tried not to bite her lip. She remembered when _she_ had been his concern, his mission. But Aizen had told her she was free to go. She doubted that Ulquiorra would have asked her such a candid question if he was still responsible for her general well being. He was not, not anymore. She was supposed to leave with her friends, never to return to the place of nightmares. She always thought that when the day came she would be happy, that she would rejoice and being saved and taken away from this place. But there had been no joy in being taken away. There had been no joy in knowing that she was going to be leaving the place, especially not when it was going to be at the hands of that _thing_ Kurosaki had become.

Twice she had seen him transform into the creature from nightmares, once it was just a mask but the second time. the second time it was so much more. She had been terrified both times, scared of the man she thought she was in love with. But she had seen Ulquiorra undergo the same things, once to a nightmare creature and then again to something that should have been infinitely more terrifying. And yet, she was not afraid. Not of that. Not of what he was. She knew why as well. He might have a broken mask on his head but Ulquiorra Schiffer had never lied to her. He had never worn the mask of a prince, of a hero. He had never been anything but honest to her. In some strange way he had been the first person in a very long time who did not let her lie to herself. There were no rainbows or fairies or robots in Ulquiorra's world. He had forced her to see the truth.

He hadn't given her strength, he had shown her she had her own.

Something silver flashed in her eye. Orihime turned her head to see the bracelet Ulquiorra had given her dangling from his fingers as he extended his hand to her. Automatically she held her hands out as the bracelet dropped from his fingers to her palms. He immediately withdrew his hand, slipping it back into his pocket. Orihime stared at the bracelet and then back at Ulquiorra. The bracelet was the one that made her invisible to people and allowed solid objects to pass through her--it would probably let attacks pass through her as well.

"You are useless in battle, woman," he said, 'this will keep you safe."

"But I--" she looked up at him, feeling tears prick her eyes, "we're not on the same side."

"Regardless, you saved my life," he said it with such disgust Orihime wondered if she had done the right thing, "I would prefer to be in the debt of as few people as possible."

Orihime closed her hand around the bracelet, not wanting to put it on just yet. She looked up at him, her gaze unwavering as he looked down at her.

"You don't need me to tell you what a heart is," she said.

"It is useless," he said.

She shook her head.

"No," she smiled, "its not," she felt the cool circle of metal in palm, "yours and mine," she continued, "everyones," she paused, "they're a bit broken right now. But that's okay. I don't think that anyone has a whole heart."

He said nothing but confusion showed in his eyes.

"Well if they did," she said, "how could they fit together with another person's heart?"

Ulquiorra's eyes widened. Orihime continued to stand there in the rubble, a smile playing on her lips. Uryuu stood behind her, her new guard. Ulquiorra looked at the two of them and realized, for the first time, that he would never really understand Orihime Inoue.

"I will find your friends and give them a way back to Soul Society," he said finally, "I suggest you hurry if you wish to travel back with them."

He turned to go.

A pair of warm arms locked around his chest as Orihime hugged him tightly, her chest against his spine. He stood ramrod strait, wondering what she was possibly doing. He could feel the warmth, the life from her through the fabric of their cloths. She could probably only feel the cold bone of his hardened skin. But she still hugged him, her arms tight around his body, the hand with the bracelet pressed right over his heart.

"Thank you," she whispered.

As if on its own accord one of his hands came up and touched her tightly clasped ones. He felt wetness hit the cloth that covered his back right under her squeezed him, if possible, tighter for a moment before she gently withdrew her arms. It was difficult to step out of her embrace but he forced himself to do it anyway. Without looking back he walked forward a handful of steps before he used _Sonido_ to vanish.

Orihime remained where she was for a moment longer, her hands pressed tightly to her chest as she stared at the spot where he had vanished from. A warm hand touched her shoulder and she turned to see Uryuu standing there, his other hand extended to her.

"Are you ready to go?" he asked.

"Yes," she said with a smile, "I'm ready."

The two of them left as well.

Orihime did not look back once.

* * *

***Sob***

**Wahh! Batspada!!**

***ahem***

**Sorry. **

**Hope you enjoyed!**

**Venetian refers to Venice which is a place where a famous carnival takes place. **


	15. Mirage

That was _not_ Ichigo Kurosaki.

Orihime stared at the monster who leered down on the broken creature underneath him like a triumphant predator. That just couldn't be Kuroskai. It was more than just because of how he looked, though that was terrifying in itself. It was worse even then when she had seen him in that mask with his black and gold eyes. She did not think she had ever seen anything so terrifying, nor did she think that she would ever see something like that again. But this was thousand times worse. She felt her hands tighten in the fabric of her ruined dress. It was her voice that had screamed for him, it was her voice that had called him back.

She had done this.

Ishida's hand tightened behind her as their eyes watched the fight. She risked a glance to her companion. His missing hand did not seem to be bothering him. He said he had fixed it as much as he could. She knew he would be alright for a bit. She could fix him when this was over, when she had made sure that Ulquiorra's words were not true. He had said that Kurosaki would loose his life. Orihime was determined not to let that happen. No-one was going to die up on this tower, not if she could help it. She looked over at Ishida whose eyes were locked on the fight, his gaze sharp and analytical behind his glasses. Orihime looked at the fight once again, her eyes widening as the familiar sight of a cero being charged appeared between Kurosaki's horns.

Her wrist hurt when she pushed herself upwards but she didn't give a thought to that. She didn't care about her torn dress or aching limbs or the fact she was probably going to have a rather spectacular black eye where the two Arrancar tried to rip her eye out. None of that mattered, at least not at the moment. What mattered was the adrenaline that surged through her, what mattered was that her feet managed to hit the ground and propel her forward. Dimly she heard Ishida inhale sharply but he would not call out to her, he did not want to alert the two monsters to her presence. She had to get as much in the middle as she could. She had healed people who were far apart before, she had to believe that she could save people as well. She knew Ishida had his own shields but she didn't know if they were strong enough for this.

She had made this mess, she was going to fix it.

The cero roared to life, deafening her. She squeezed her eyes against the harsh light and screamed for her fairies, unable to hear her own words above the roar of power. She threw her arms out as wide as they would go, praying that her shield would be long enough, that her heart would be strong enough, that somehow, impossibly this would all work out. It had to work out.

People had always protected her, they had sheltered her and saved her. She had been in Soul Society trying to get stronger. She did not want to be a burden to her friends, not like she had been before. She wanted to help them all. But instead of doing that she had gotten two men probably killed, herself kidnapped and forced her friends to come to Hueco Mundo to rescue her when she could not save herself. They hadn't been thinking about the war or saving the world, they had been consumed with saving _her_, because she was too weak to save herself. What if she hadn't stayed alive? What if they had gotten there only to find that she was dead? They would have come all that way for nothing. She did not want to go back the same wide eyed girl who had been taken from them. She wanted to go back stronger, she wanted to go back and not have everyone always look out for her. She did not want to be a burden to her friends.

_I will return in one hour, if you have not eaten by then I will bind you and force you to eat_

It was a....

a choice.

He had given her a choice.

_In any even, that woman has been placed in my care by Aizen, so hand her over._

He came for her.

It was orders but still he came for her. Grimmjow had just _taken_ her like she was a toy and he came for her like she was a burden but he as still there to take her back. Everything was so scary, so confusing that when Grimmjow lunged for him she had been frightened, frightened she would have to heal another person.

Scared that he would get hurt.

_What is a heart?_

Her heart was the dull echo in her ears. It was the only sound she could hear on that tower top as her arms spread as wide as she could make them. She felt like she had been separated from the rest of the world. She could not feel the heat of the cero or hear the debris hit the ground. She knew her shield was covering her but who else had made it? Part of her did not want to open her eyes, to see the what the result of her action was. But she knew she had too, she had to see what she had done. Orihime opened one eye cautiously and then the other, looking at the world through the gold tint of her power.

Somehow, impossibly, it had worked.

Kurosaki stood on the golden glow, his horns close enough to almost touch it but the barrier had stood firm. Underneath it, surprise written all over his face, Ulquiorra's broken form was no more damaged than it had been before the cero. Orihime let her arms drop as she looked over at ishida. The Quincy was breathing hard but he too was no more broken than he had been before the attack. The shield had saved them all. On the other side, Kurosaki lifted his horned head and looked around, obviously confused. Orihime kept her shield up, completely unsure of what he was going to do. His foot moved onto the ground, off her shield and the Espada underneath. Standing on the solid ground, Kurosaki's wicked, primal eyes locked on hers. Orihime looked at him through the gold glow, wishing that her heart was not beating so terribly fast.

"Inoue--" she heard Ishida but his voice seemed to come from a great distance as she met the gaze of the man she was so sure her heart belonged too.

Would she ever be able to look at him the same way?

She turned her head to see Ulquiorra pushing himself up, still safe behind the golden glow. His emerald eyes swept over the golden glow before they slid to her grey ones. Orihime met his gaze steadily. Both he and Kurosaki had undergone drastic changes, changes that should have terrified her but once again, when she looked at Ulquiorra she did not feel fear. One of his horns was broken off, his remaining wing was shredded and the gash across his chest bled steadily, the red mixing with the black that seemed to seep from his enlarged Hole. He looked so _broken_. It was so unusual for the Espada who always seemed to look so aloof and in control, no matter what. Now he looked shattered and the confusion she saw naked in his eyes only seemed to make things much worse.

Her feet seemed to move of their own accord as she took a step towards him, then another. He did not move as she approached him, for all his regeneration she did not know if he could move. She saw Kurosaki tremble on the other side of the shield, probably fighting whatever strange power held him, but she did not look at him. She was unable to look away from Ulquiorra's emerald eyes. Her feet managed to avoid the rubble they had kicked up earlier but her eyes remained locked with his. Her feet stopped only when her toes came within a breath of his own clawed ones. She remembered the echoing sound his boots had made as he walked down the hallway. She knew when he was coming by that sound alone. Two of his claws were twisted oddly, probably broken in the fall. He did not seem affected by his injuries. He looked up at her cooly, his gaze unwavering.

"I-Inou-e," the harsh, distorted, choked sound came from Kurosaki.

Her head turned towards his. The hole in his chest was almost gone. His eyes were the ebony and gold they had been when he had worn the more human version of his mask. She saw the confusion and the sorrow inside his eyes, the horror at what he had done and the desire to once again protect her. Orihime met his gaze steadily but she did not withdraw the shield. His bright orange hair began to shorten as the horns on his mask began to withdraw. He was turning back. Soon he would be Ichigo Kurosaki, the boy that before she had stood on the tower she had been convinced she was in love with. Now, even though she was happy he was alive, she did not feel the desire to throw herself at him. She did not want his arms around her. She did not want to know what it would feel like to kiss him, to have him say that he loved her. Even when he finally stood there without his mask on, his amber eyes naked to her gaze, she did not want to touch him.

"Inoue," he repeated her name, confusion in his voice as he looked at her.

The sound of bones moving made her turn to Ulquiorra. She watched as his toes snapped into place, his horn reformed and all the injuries he had suffered regenerate. His regeneration was not like hers. She could hear every bone, every muscle fiber, every layer of skin--she could hear it all reform and realign. But she did not help him. She knew he would not take kindly to her healing him. Finally he stood in front of her reformed completely, his wings flexing experimentally as he made sure everything was as it should be. A few more minor adjustments and he tucked his wings in but made no move to revert to the form that she was used to seeing him in. He might have been injured but he clearly was not injured enough to have lost the ability to maintain his form.

She withdrew her shield, her fairies reforming her hairpin as she stepped forward until she was once again toe to toe with Ulquiorra. One of her hands came forward slowly, cautiously. He made no move to jerk away from her touch as her fingertips touched the widened tear marks that decorated his face. His skin was as hard and smooth as it had been when he was in his other form, though she had only touched him once or twice. She had felt his warmth when he touched her, questioning her as to what a heart was. Her fingers trailed down the widened lines. Even if he looked just as animalistic as Kurosaki had, his eyes were not clouded. Confusion shown in their depths but he was clearly in control of himself. He was still Ulquiorra Schiffer.

Orihime let her fingers trail the length of his tear marks, slipping past his chin to fall to her side once more. They stood there, both perfectly still. The Espada and the woman with the power to defy the Gods. She did not want to run from him, she did not think there was a reason to do so. He made no move to hurt her or to touch her, he just stood there under her inspection.

"Inoue get away from him!"

She did not move.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Ishida get to his feet, his balance thrown off by the lack of his hand. He walked past Ichigo to where she was. She turned around but did not leave Ulquiorra's shadow. Gently she touched his wrist, summoning her healing and covering his bleeding wrist with her power. Silently his hand began to reform as she bent her head over the work. When his fingers were finally fixed she withdrew her fairies. Ishida gave an experimental flex of his fingers before he lowered his hand.

"You should go to the others," she said softly.

He looked at her, his eyes confused under the shine of his glasses before he realized what she was saying.

"Inoue--"

She was not going with them.

He looked down at her. She met his gaze steadily, her grey eyes saddened at the thought of not going with them but he saw the resolve in them as well. They would always instinctively want to protect her. She could not let them risk themselves in the fight by thinking of her and her safety. He looked over her shoulder at the emerald gaze of the Espada. His duty would always be to Aizen but Ishida knew that he would keep her safe as well. He looked down at Orihime who looked up at him, her lips curving into smile that, though small, was the most honest gesture he had seen on the tower that day.

"Goodbye, Orihime," he said, letting her first name fall from his lips.

"Be careful Uryuu!" she said, brightening at the gesture.

"Inoue what the hell are you doing?!" Kurosaki cried. Orihime looked over at him, knowing he would never understand.

"You should go," she said, her smile softening in pity, "I'm not going with you."

"Inoue--"

"Let her go, Kurosaki," Ishida hissed, "you aren't going to stop her."

"But--"

"Are you ready, woman?"

She turned her head upwards to see Ulquiorra looking down at her. This was not an order, they both knew that. Aizen had bound him to Las Noches. He was to protect the palace. But if her friends were not saving her then they were not going to try and destroy it. She had made a choice to keep them safe. It was a foolishly selfless choice but it was hers to make. She had just saved him and as loath as he was to acknowledge it, he had to keep her safe. She had shown him trust and, for reasons he was not quite sure of, he seemed to do the same for her. Kursoaki continued to demand answers but she did not hear him. Ulquiorra extended a hand to her. She placed her pale hand in his black one, the pads of his fingers closing around her skin though his claws did not touch her.

"I'm ready," she said softly, turning her head, "please don't follow us," she said stepping closer to Ulquiorra.

The echo of Sonido was the curtain that ended the act.

Uryuu and Ichigo were left on the stage.

Alone.


	16. yokou

**Okay so there is more gorgeous fanart for this story courtesy of Randomfish32. Go to their page on DeviantArt or mine and its under favorites. This one has a specific chapter which his Chapter 2, Kyrie. Its a sketch right now but its absolutely gorgeous!**

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The foot on his face was a thousand times more painful than the wounds that marred his body.

It was difficult to speak through the pain and the shame that seemed to twist through him like a living thing but he managed. Ichigo Kurosaki might kill him but Ulquiorra was determined to strike _some_ blow against him. It was pathetic enough that he was dying like this, but to die like this without saying _something_ to haunt Kurosaki after whatever held him wore off, that was something he did not think he could do. Funny, he remembered when he used to think that useless words were a waste of time.

"How very Hollow-like," he said, his emerald eyes locking with the endless ones hidden inside the mask, "I don't care. I have no reason to live now that you've beaten me."

The heat from the cero was warm against his face. He had never been on the receiving end of the attack he could use so freely. Perhaps he should have stuck with the basics, though he doubted such an attack would have an effect on one who could stop a more powerful attack with his bare hands. He forced his eyes to remain open as he stared into the blinding light. He might have been destined to die like a pathetic animal but he was not going to die like a coward. The horned head came a fraction closer, moving like a beast would leer at its prey. All the while the light grew steadily.

"Do it," he ordered, his voice harsh.

The light charged as though responding to his demand. The horns of the mask came even closer as the warmth he felt on his cheek turned to burning. It was just another sensation, no more or less than any other agony he was suffering at the moment. The light eclipsed the mask but Ulquiorra kept his eyes glued to it. Hollow or no, clearly this was one of the first times this creature used the attack. it didn't take this long to charge a cero. Perhaps he was enjoying it, making Ulquiorra wait as long as possible while his death glowed more and more brightly with each passing second, with each dull thump of his heart.

Was this the same heart that _woman_ had referred too?

The physical one he understood. he heard it echo in his supposedly dead chest. He knew that for all his strength, all his abilities and regeneration if that heart ceased to beat then he would cease to live. But that heart did not command him to care, to love, to hate. It did nothing except keep him alive in the most basic and simple sense of the word. The disgust for the creature on top of him, for the pathetic man who should _not_ be able to do what he was doing, was that the heart that she had referred too? If so then at the moment it was a confused and useless thing he would be much happier without. Maybe then he would not have been so _eager_ to show everything that he could do. Maybe then the desire to crush Ichigo Kurosaki like a bug under his feet would have been less--less enough that he could approach the battle with far more practicality than rage. Hs supposed it was a fault of his ability. Hindsight, he could replay what he had seen but even he could not see the future or events as they unfolded. He was usually so good at keeping his emotions in check, at keeping his head clear Perhaps, for that alone, he deserved this fate.

He did not know how he saw her in the blinding light.

Maybe because he was still un-accustom to the flash of color that had been thrust into his life. Maybe because he imagined that the could be blind and still know the sunset of her hair. Maybe because though his orders no longer included her, his mission to be in charge of her was the longest he had ever suffered through. It had not bee a pleasant mission, taking care of a girl as difficult as Orihime Inoue, but it had been his mission none the less and failing in a task given to him by Aizen was not an option. he had made sure she ate when she refused, that she slept when she tried to keep watch as if she expected her friends to come charging through the door instead of him. He had gone after her when that idiot Grimmjow had taken her. Though it was not because of her, he had fought her friends when they had come for her as well. Through the blinding light he saw her run towards the two of them, her face screwed up in concentration.

She reached them just as Ichigo finished charging the cero. His foot was thrown off Ulquiorra's face as she threw her body on top of his. The abrupt shift in angles caused Ichigo's head to snap back. Ulquiorra's reaction was just as instantaneous. The cero was far too large to miss him, even if the angle hand changed. He felt the gold triangle of her shield come up to protect them but the cero he released held offset some of the blow. He heard her cry out, burying her face in his chest as the heat and light bombarded them both but the shield remained firm even under the assault, despite having shattered earlier under a far less significant blow. Her fingers dug into the planes of his chest as the cero roared around them like a living, breathing thing. He had never felt a cero so powerful, his own was weak in comparison. If not for the golden shield that wrapped around them both, he had no doubt he would be dead.

When it cleared he could still see nothing.

He could hear the debris falling all around them.

He could taste the grit and blood in his mouth.

He was aware of every injury that had been dealt to him but the pain seemed to have dulled.

All he could feel was her body against his.

Her fingers were still pressed against his chest, her breath escaping in harsh gasps and trailing down his skin. He could feel her hair just above that and again further down his chest where it streamed over her shoulders to brush against his skin, moving each time her shoulders shook. He could feel her skin, covered by the fabric of her dress except where it had been torn away by the Arrancar who attacked her. Then he became aware of the wetness that dripped onto his chest. She was--she was crying. He felt his fingers press against her side. He realized that the hand he had used to fire the cero had fallen to wrap around her waist, pressing her body tightly against his.

He felt her palms flatten as she pushed herself up, her hair dragging across his hardened skin. He let her move, the arm that had been around her waist slackening as he let her go. She stood up just as the white that had blinded his eyes began to fade into spotty blue. He was relieve that, at the very least, he was not blind. Immediately he pushed himself up. His chest and the torn stump where his wing had been seared with agony. He felt his claws dig into the ground for a moment before he forced himself to focus. His regeneration was not painless but it was far less painful than going around with a torn off wing and potentially fatal gash across his chest. Thankfully he did not sense any internal damage that couldn't be fixed later. His body knitted back together as he stood up just as his vision cleared. He almost wished it hadn't.

Orihime stood in front of Ichigo. He could see the fear in her but also the determination to help him. Most nauseatingly he saw how much she cared for him. It was written all over her. He really was blind. he knew she cared for all her friends but it was disgustingly clear in that moment that she _loved_ Ichigo Kurosaki. Did she know he did not return her feelings? Did she care? Ichigo cocked his head to the side, considering her with the confusion of a predator observing a tamer. He was mildly aware of himself, if that, but the beast that had taken over him, that was the thing in control. He had lost himself to that Hollow form. He could not decide which of the three of them was more pathetic in that moment. Even the one handed Quincy who was observing them all intensely was a more respectable creature. Slowly Orihime's hand reached out towards Ichigo's face. The creature shook his head and stepped back, one of his feet scraping the ground anxiously.

"Its alright," Orihime soothed, "I know this isn't you, Kurosaki," she said, her eyes bright with unshed tears, "let me help you."

Ichigo shook his head more frantically, the hole in his chest closing more as her words once again reached him from some impossible distance. Orihime stepped forward again, her fingers reaching forward. The golden glow of her healing stretched in front of her, enveloping him. Orihime stepped forward through the shield, encasing herself in the glow with him. Her arms wrapped around his body as she laid her head near the hole on his chest. Ulquiorra watched them, unable to fathom how he was supposed to feel at the sight. He saw Ichigo's hands fall limply to his side as the mask began to fracture, his entire body trembling.

"Come back, Kurosaki," she whispered, her arms tightening around his form.

Ulquiorra felt his claws dig into his palms, his tail whipping back and forth as he watched the scene. Of the multitude of emotions he had felt since the fight began, the fear that crept up his spine was by far the most unpleasant. He was actually concerned that Kurosaki was going to hurt Orihime. The mask began to fracture faster now, the cracks beginning to come with more and more speed. Orihime's back sloped as she clung to Ichigo's trembling form. With the loudest crack, the mask shattered, fragments flying inside the confines of the shield. Maybe if there hadn't been a barrier, maybe if the angle had been different--maybe maybe maybe, what did it matter? There was a barrier healing or no and the angle was as it was and one of the horns that had almost ended Uqluiorra's life plunged tip first into Orihime's left shoulder.

"Inoue!"

He heard the Quincy shout for her. The golden glow seemed not to affect her or worse, it would heal her with the horn still inside of her. Ichigo's eyes seemed to be swimming in and out of focus. His hands reached up to grasp her shoulders for support. He would have grabbed anyone for support but _her_, the woman who had just been hurt--that was not something he could allow. He knew he could not get to her through the shield, but there was a gap to the side. His tail snaked around the oval barrier, wrapping around her waist and yanking her from Ichigo's grasp. Behind the golden glow Ichigo dropped to his knees then onto all fours. Ulquiorra whipped his tail around, pulling her back as smoothly and as quickly as he possibly could. He heard her cry out as her shoulder was jerked with the force of the movement. He slowed her gradually, letting her come to rest in front of his form with as little harsh movement as possibly.

"I-I never tried to heal myself," she said with a tight, pain filled smile.

Her right hand grasped her left arm with a white knuckled grip in a failed effort to keep her shoulder still. She was pale and he could see sweat beading her brow. It must have been _agony_ for her at the moment. He lowered her as smoothly as possible, letting her feet touch the ground slowly. He withdrew his tail with equal grace, making sure he did not jostle her and shift the horn more. But the moment his tail was withdrawn she sagged, her legs unable to support her weight as she began to succumb to the pain of her injury. His arms immediately streaked out, one hand steadying her right shoulder and the other wrapping around her waist from the left to steady her.

"I guess it doesn't work on m-me," she said, her voice stumbling over the words as her healing ability wavered before it vanished, the fairies moving back to her hairpins. He knew that any warrior would be able to speak plainly, the injury was not as sever as it seemed. But she was not a warrior, "s-sorry," she murmured, though he had no idea who she was apologizing to.

"I need to take the horn out," he told her, his voice cool and steady, _familiar_, not like the inhuman roar or the distorted cry of the man she loved, "bend forward slowly, I need you to try and recreate the angle the horn went in."

He moved his hand up from her back, steadying his hand on her spine as he tried to keep her skin from pulling even more taught around the intrusive element. He felt her breath catch in pain but she bit her lip hard enough to keep from crying out again. His other hand wrapped around the horn embedded in her shoulder as he steadied her. He felt her forehead press to the skin below his shoulder. He moved his hand downward, maintaining his grip on the object but letting his claws break her skin to widen the torn wound so it wouldn't catch on its way out. He felt her tense against him in anticipation of the pain. There was nothing he could do to aide that but even he knew it would be much worse with her muscles locked.

"You have to relax," he ordered, his voice no different than when he told her to eat. She did not defy him--not then but she did now, her body remaining tight, "woman, have i ever lied to you?"

"N-no," she said.

"I will not let any more harm come to you," he said, "this will hurt less if you do not tense."

Orihime took a deep breath, her body relaxing. He did not wait to see if she would tense again. He pulled the horn out of her shoulder. She cried out, her hands gripping the black fur on his waist as the horn slid free. It was easy to pull out. Thanks to the widening of the hole it did not catch on anything as it slid free. It was not as deep as he had feared it had been either. Ulquiorra threw the thing aside and pressed his hand to the hole in her shoulder. Her hands loosened from the fur on his waist, her hands coming up to rest just below his Hollow Hole as she straitened up, her face still buried in his chest. He let his hand slide down to wrap around her spine, holding her steady against him as his other hand continued to press against the wound. Hollows had no way to heal. His regeneration was not healing and it certainly could not be done on another person. There were medical supplies but they were inside Las Noches, meant to be used on those like Yammy who needed care but were unable to give it to themselves. He glanced over the top of her head to see an ashen faced Ichigo and an equally jarred looking Ishida.

The battle was as good as over.

He had not won but neither had Ichigo. There had been no winner and, by the same token, there had been no loser either. They were all injured but they were all alive thanks to the trembling creature in his arms. He claimed he would not let harm come to her. Of all the things he had been in his life he was not a liar. But he could not help her if he maintained the form he was in now, he could not enter Las Noches if he was in the form he was in. He had never transformed with someone before. Though he knew it would be practical for him to push her away something prevented him from doing so--something he could not define. Storing power was _always_ harder than releasing it but he managed to do so, _Murcielago_ reforming as his power was sealed away. It was understandable that his cloths were torn, he had almost forgotten about the first part of his fight with Ichigo. He removed his hand from her waist, ripping the tattered remains of his sleeve off his shoulder. Turning the fabric over to expose the cleaner underside he pressed it against the wound. Apparently the horn had not damaged anything major. The bleeding was already slowing. He pressed the fabric tightly to the wound, ignoring how she hissed at the change in pressure, both her fingers tightening against his chest, a sign that everything was working inside.

"Ulquiorra?" he looked down at her head. She looked up at him, her grey eyes still wet with her tears, "c-can we go back now?" she looked over at her friends, at Ishida's missing hand and Ichigo's stunned features, "I don't want them to get hurt anymore because of me."

"You should think about your safety," he told her, his emerald eyes hard as he looked down at her.

Embracing or no, he was not her friend.

He was probably not her enemy either anymore. After all, she had just saved him and somehow he had wound up saving her as well. the fact remained that his arms were around her as she looked up at him, seeming to be perfectly content with the fact that it was _his_ embrace and not that of her precious Kurosaki. She returned his gaze steadily, her eyes unwavering. Apparently not even seeing him with wings and a tail had made him frightening in her eyes.

"I am safe," she told him as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Part of him wanted to throw her to her friends, to push her away and send her back to the world where he had plucked her from. But that world would become a battlefield in the very near future. Aizen had all but abandoned Las Noches in favor of the battle and eventually in favor of the Royal Dimension. By some insane twist of fate, at the moment Las Noches had become one of the safest places in any world. Whether she realized it or not there was logic in her words and if there was one thing that Ulquiorra understood, it was logic. He needed logic, logic and his mission to exist. Both were somehow safely wrapped in his arms.

"I need to bandage your shoulder," he said finally.

"I need to heal Ishida," she said turning her head to see her friend with his missing hand. She did not look at Ichigo, almost as if she was afraid of him.

He tore a long strip off his ruined jacket. The fabric came apart easily but he managed to make sure the strip was long enough for what he needed to do. He tied it around her shoulder, securing the makeshift bandage in place. She turned around and walked over to where Ishida was. He watched her walked over, his had wrapping around his Zanpakto. Ichigo seemed to be in a sort of stupor but if he decided to move then Ulquiorra was going to cero him. Simple, effective, he'd be headless before he could even _think_ the syllables to the pathetic animal noises he had been making. He did not hear what she said to the Quincy, though he saw his eyes go to him a few times before he gave a nod of understanding. The two of them embraced before she turned and walked over.

"Inoue--" his eyes narrowed as Ichigo spoke her name. But instead of going to pieces, anger shone in her eyes as she turned around and faced the broken man whose hand moved towards her.

"Don't _touch_ me!" Orihime cried stepping back from him, "I don't ever want to see you again, Ichigo Kurosaki," Ulquiorra stared as she drew herself up, her eyes flashing dangerously. He didn't think he had seen her genuinely furious since she slapped him, "do you know that the one person I said goodbye to before I left was you?"

He said nothing.

"I was in _love _with you," she continued, "but I realized--" she stopped, gathering her words, "I realized you could never love me. We've known each other for _years_ and you don't even call me by my name. None of you do," she laced her fingers behind her back. He saw her grip tighten as she tried not to cry, "you're never going to see me as anything but the girl who needs to be protected. Even after we went to save Rukia, she's protected you so often. I've never done anything useful--" she shook her head, "you'll never fight like you should, not if I'm anywhere near you," she stepped back again, another space from him, "I won't let anyone get hurt because of me ever again. This is the only way I can protect the people I care about."

"You're going back with him?!" he demanded, anger in his eyes, "he kidnapped you!"

"I chose to go with him," she said. It hadn't been much of a choice back then but it was now, "I'm choosing him again," she looked up at Ulquiorra and then back at Ichigo, "you should go to the others."

"Damn it! Sado, Renji, Rukia--Rukia almost died to come here to save you!"

Rukia.

Oh.

Orihime looked down at him, the truth seeping through her. She was not shocked at the realization. Maybe she had just been too blinded to see it before. She had childishly believed that Ichigo Kurosaki was her Prince Charming. She just hadn't though that Rukia Kuchiki could be his Cinderella, not after she denied having feelings for him. Orihime felt her lips curve into a smile. She probably didn't realize it either. Confusion shone in Ichigo's eyes but all she felt when she saw it was pity. He had no reason not to understand--but he did not. She didn't think he ever would. Her voice was steady as she looked down at him.

"Then you should go to her," she said, "she needs you," her voice was steady, "I don't," she looked over at Ishida who seemed actually calm about the situation, "goodbye."

She turned around and walked over to where Ulquiorra was waiting. She did not feel scared or sad anymore as her friends and the man she knew she had, at one time, loved. Ulquiorra stood there calmly, his hands tucked into his pockets. His gaze was cool as he watched her walk over to him but He did not voice any objections. She was glad. She did not like the idea of wandering Hueco Mundo without anywhere to go. Finally she stopped when she was toe to toe with Ulquiorra. His hand reached out, brushing under her eye to remove the handful of tears that she had shed without realizing. He did not scold her for being overly emotional, simply wiped the tears away.

"I'm ready to go now," she said.

"Very well, woman," he said, "I need to fix your shoulder."

Orihime bobbed her head as he laid a hand on her shoulder, using _Sonido_ to carry them to the part of Las Noches that was used for medical procedures. Ulquiorra went to the side of the room, pulling the supplies he would need out with smooth, graceful movements despite his tattered cloths and scratched, dirty skin. Orihime stood still as he came to stand behind her.

"Pull your hair away," he said. She quickly gathered the heavy length in her hands, pulling it over her shoulder and exposing her back to him.

His hands were smooth as they severed the fabric that held the makeshift bandage in place. His fingers found the zipper to her cloths. One of his hands held the fabric steady as the other pulled it down to the middle of her back. Orihime tried to hold herself still as he pushed the folds of the fabric aside, pushing them so they exposed the curves of her shoulders. His fingers brushed the exposed skin just above the fabric as he focused on her back. She felt his fingers touch the edges of the torn skin, inspecting it for any sort of damage. It was barely the size of the pad of his thumb, even with the neat claw marks on the side. He could give her stitches but he did not see the need to cause her further pain. He picked up a bottle of antiseptic and wet a cloth, pressing it to the wound. He watched as she shivered against the pressure.

"Its cold," she explained. He said nothing as he fixed a clean, dry bandage to her skin. He taped the bandage in place, turning and walking around her to the wardrobe where a set of garments was kept for the badly injured Arrancar. He pulled out a large shirt that would cover her at least to mid-thigh and turned around.

That was probably a mistake.

Her grey eyes were not as innocent as they had been even before the battle but they still seemed to glow with some inner light he would never truly understand. Her sunset hair was pulled to the side, falling over her right shoulder but leaving the arch of the left side of her neck completely bare. The dress that was usually high necked and modest was rolled to her upper arms, exposing her collar bones and the beginning of the swell of her breasts. For the first time when he looked at her he did not think of her at the innocent, delicate girl but as someone who was--who was--

_attractive_.

Pink stained her cheeks as she finally looked away from his heated gaze, The hand still holding her hair fiddling with the ends. He shook himself out of the haze finally and walked forward, extending the shirt towards her. She accepted it, still blushing even more furiously as their fingers touched with the exchange of the garment. She held up her dress as she turned around and pulled the shirt over her head. The dress slid to the ground as the much shorter shirt took its place. Orihime pulled her hair up out of the collar of the shirt, moving the weight to her back once again. It brushed against her injury but it barely hurt. She bent down and picked up the tattered dress she had worn, fingering the burned edge of the fabric. She felt rather strange dressed as she was but she supposed it was no stranger than the fact that she had just willingly gone back to Las Noches with Ulquiorra when he was not threatening her friends.

Her stomach rumbling made them both look down. Orihime felt herself blush as she looked down at her stomach and then up at Ulquiorra.

"Um--" she bit her lip, "if you have a mission--"

"My duty is to protect Las Noches," he said turning around and walking to the door, "out here," he said as they stepped into the hallway. Ulquiorra extended a hand, the corridors rearranging themselves. He stepped forward towards the kitchen he knew was at the end of the hallway.

His feet slowed as he realized Orihime was not beside him. He turned around and looked at her. She stood at the end of the hallway that he had just created, her eyes a mess of emotions. It seemed to just be hitting her that she had thrown everything she held dear aside. She had forsaken the world that would never see her as anything but a burden, no matter how happy they were to carry her. If nothing else he could give her respect for that choice. He turned fully to face her and let his hand slip out of his pocket, extending towards her own in invitation.

"Come with me, woman."

If nothing else that brought a smile to her lips. Her own hand extended forward as she accepted his invitation and silently, the two walked towards the future.


	17. Requiem

**Follow up to KYRIE**

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Orihime Inoue raced up the stairs to her apartment, closing the door quickly behind her and locking it securely. She hastily unwrapped her scarf from around her neck and dropped her hat to the ground before kicking off her boots. It was still early spring, still cool enough that she needed the coat that she shrugged into a heap on the ground before racing over to the the low table, the bag still clutched in tightly in her hands. She had refused to relax her grip the entire train ride home, the holding the bag tightly in her lap so she could be sure that the item it contained was securely inside.

She finally opened the bag and pulled out the wrapped box underneath. She slipped her thumb under the seal, breaking it and opening the lid of the white box to reveal a grey slab of foam. She pulled that away as well. Underneath that was an object wrapped in a much thinner foam. Reaching down Orihime gently pulled the grey foam on either side up, putting them to the side of the box before she wrapped her hands around the white wrapped object and lifted it up out of its prison. This one too was sealed but with a strip of clear tape. She tore that as well before unwrapping the foam to reveal what had been so painstakingly wrapped in the box. It was another box.

A music box.

It was not like a child's music box. There were no ballerinas or sparkles decorating the lacquered cherry wood of the box's top. Orihime ran her fingers over the lid almost reverently. A gold clasp in the shape of a seashell kept the box closed. She could feel the hinges in the back of the box with the pads of her fingers, still bright and shiny despite the fact the box was an antique. She set the box down, terrified that she was going to break it. Reaching out she opened the clasp and carefully lifted the lid. The box was lined with pale blue-green silk. There was a large compartment and two smaller ones next to it. But the box was silent. Orihime bit her lip, carefully picking the box up to see if she had missed something. Her fingers touched something in the back. She turned it over to see a keyhole outlined in gold as well. She looked in the white box that it had come in but there was nothing. Had the woman forgotten to give it to her? Had it been lost as well? She peered inside the music box only to see the key sitting in one of the smaller compartments.

Hastily Orihime wiped at her eyes, trying to tell herself she wasn't crying, not yet anyway. The gold key dangled from a fine gold chain. Orihime carefully held the key in her hands. Holding the music box in her palm she slipped the key into its back, winding it carefully around before moving her hand away. Slowly, perfectly the key began to turn and the music began to play. It sounded different from the day she had heard him on the piano but she would recognize that tune anywhere. Orihime held the box in her hands, closing her eyes as she felt the spill down her cheeks. It was the song that she had heard that day back in Las Noches, the song that had been stuck in her head, haunting it like the man who had played it without even realizing he had an audience. She had snuck out of her rooms and heard him playing it accidentally. He didn't even know she had heard it, that she loved it.

That she had seen his tears.

She had known that he was not a monster then, not completely. But she had been swept away long before she could find the words to say it to him. What could she possibly say him? She had so much to say but he had never really had trouble saying nothing at all. Perhaps it was for the best that they had been separated. She was so many things and he always seemed to be the opposite. She didn't think she had ever met a person as different as he was from her. But somehow coming back to the world that still viewed her as a light and happy girl was far more impossible than anything she had done before. She wanted to be seen as different, she _felt_ different but everyone seemed determined to make the world go back to the way they thought it 'should' be. They had never tried to do that with Rukia or any of the Soul Reapers or even the Vizards. But the moment she came back they seemed to expect her to be drawing pictures of robots and trying to force Red Bean paste down their throats. When she didn't, everyone seemed so sad she would sometimes pretend so they wouldn't look so upset.

Orihime held the box tightly to her chest as she began to weep in earnest. Ulquiorra would have hated that if he had seen her cry. He probably would have called her foolish for doing it. The thought of his reaction to her tears only made her cry harder as she thought of the man who had been her captor and her guardian all at the same confusing time. In her head the sound of the music box ebbed away to the sound of the piano. She remembered his bone white fingers as they touched the keys, the hands she thought capable only of destruction bringing such beauty to a place she otherwise never would have thought as such. Most days she was grateful to her friends for saving her. Truly she was glad to be out of such a terrible place, filled with such monsters. But every once in a while she would think about what could have been, about what Ulquiorra would have been like. She supposed if he was emotional he wouldn't have been the man she knew but still, sometime she found herself wondering. She found herself wishing that there was something _she_ could have done.

When it seemed that her tears ran out, Orihime looked at the box in her hands. Though it had long since fallen silent, she could still hear the music it played. Slowly she got to her feet, the box still cradled against her chest. She pulled open the curtains of the window and looked at the starlit sky. She hadn't looked at the night sky or the world after dark at all really since she returned from Hueco Mundo. She had forgotten how pretty it could be when she wasn't looking at it through dust or rubble or barred windows. She lowered herself to the seat under the window, tucking her legs underneath her as she held the box in her lap. Reaching behind her she twisted the key, beginning the music once more. This time she did not cry when she heard it. Instead she reached into her pocket and picked out the flat white letter the woman had given her along with the box.

_Dear Ms. Inoue,_

_When you contacted me about my music box I was amazed. I had never known anyone who heard the song before except for me. I had this box made for you so you too could enjoy the music._

_My brother wrote that song for me a very long time ago, back when we were both much younger than I am now, probably than you are! I never used to want to go to sleep so he wrote me that song as a lullaby. When he used to travel I would never go to sleep so he had the song made into a music box for me._

_It was the one thing i was able to take with me from Hiroshima._

_Sadly, my brother died there. _

_I miss him to this very day. He was far older than me and though my parents were wonderful, he will always have a special place in my heart. I hope that he is safe, wherever he is. You say you cannot tell me how you heard the song and I understand, but I have a feeling he had something to do with it. If there is one thing I've learned in all my years it is that the world works in very mysterious ways._

_I wish you all the best, Ms. Inoue, and I hope that the song will bring you as much joy over the years as it has me._

_~Asuka_

Inside the folds of the letter was an old picture. In it a dark haired, smiling Ulquiorra had a girl on his shoulders. She was smiling up at the camera but his eyes were on her. She knew the look in his eyes, she saw it in her brother's eyes when he looked at her. Asuka was far too old to travel but she had sent Orihime the letter and had the box made at a store nearby. Orihime had been shocked when she had done such a thing but Asuka had refused to hear of any payment. She was an old, happy and wealthy woman who said she was more than willing to share the joy of the music that her brother had written for her with another living soul--even if her grandchildren claimed that she was crazy for doing such a thing. Orihime Orihime laid the note and picture in the soft silk of the music box, holding it in her lap.

Carefully she reached up and slipped her hairpins out, laying each one in the compartment. She had always just put them besides her bed on the table but now she had a place for them. Her brother had kept her safe and so had Ulquiorra, she was sure the music box would do the same for her hair pins. Instead of getting into bed though, Orihime turned the key a few more times before she leaned her head against the wall and closed her eyes, lulled to sleep by the music that played from the box.

Hours later, when the sun slipping through the window forced her to open her eyes, she realized that the tears she had cried had been wiped away.

Resting on top of the letter was the bracelet he had given her the day she said goodbye to her old life.

For the first time in what seemed like a very long time,

Orihime smiled.


	18. Rachis

**WARNING: Ulquiorra and Orihime make out, like hardcore.**

**With him in two different forms.**

**This is rated a strong t/borderline m. **

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Orihime gasped softly as Ulquiorra's soft lips parted her own, his tongue slipping into the velvet of her mouth. She pressed her body insistently against his own, her hands wrapping around the muscles of his shoulders. His arms wrapped around the curve of her waist, his hands slipping under the cotton of her t-shirt to press against the warm curve of her spine. Her fingers crept up towards the clasp of her bra, his movements strong and smooth as her breasts pressed against the hard planes of his chest. Orihime's hands moved from his shoulders to press against his chest as she pulled her lips away from his.

"What is it?" Ulquiorra questioned looking down at her.

Orihime looked up at him. In his gigai he was strikingly handsome, his skin pale but not ghostly white. His emerald eyes were still two tone but his pupils were pinpricks instead of slits. No cyan lines descended from his eyes down his cheeks. His black hair was messy but there was no half helmet to cover his hair. He was in the male version of the school uniform, jacket and white button discarded leaving him in the t-shirt he wore underneath, the black bat tattoo just visible underneath the hem of the sleeve. Orihime pressed her hands against his chest as she continued to look up at him, aware that his hands were against the bare skin of her spine, her own sweater vest thrown near his jacket and the first handful of buttons of her white button down open.

"Its nothing," she said lowering her eyes.

"Orihime," he sighed, his voice low, a note of worry in his tone. It was not like Orihime was one to push him away, especially when they were in such a position, "what is it?" he questioned.

"Its silly," she said biting her swollen bottom lip, "you're gonna laugh."

Ulquiorra raised an eyebrow. Despite thinking that some of the thing she did or said were ridiculous, he was not n the habit of laughing at her. Orihime looked up at him before looking down and then back up at him.

"I've been, um, wondering," she mumbled, "what it would be liked to kiss you."

"I assumed that was what you were doing."

"No I mean--" she stopped, "I mean what it would be liked to kiss you as _you_," she pressed her fingers to his chest, "not in your gigai."

Ulquiorra looked down at her, truly shocked. They had begun seeing each other but he had always been in a gigai. In fact, he did not think that he had ever been out of the gigai and certainly not for the length of time that they took to make out. He didn't think she had seen him out of his gigai since they had been in Hueco Mundo. Making out was, it was nice. He had always shied away from physical contact until she had come into his world. But their physical contact had been with him in a gigai. He had always just assumed that his physical appearance outside of the gigai was something frightening to her. Unfortunately it seemed that Orihime was not only _not_ frightened by his genuine form but she wanted to kiss him. He felt the edge of her bra against his finger and looked into her wide grey eyes and knew that saying 'no' was not something he would ever really be able to do.

"You want to kiss me?" he asked, completely dumbfounded by the idea she wasn't scared of him and apparently wanted to make out with him in his regular form. She bobbed her head in confirmation, "we have to go to the training area, I am not allowed to remove my gigai except in places that can contain my Spiritual Energy."

"Okay," she said holding his hand, "lets go."

Ulquiorra and her went down to the basement training room. Ulquiorra fished the Soul Candy out of his pocket and swallowed the pill, freeing his soul from the gigai it was in. The body crumpled to the ground as he stood there, feeling oddly nervous about her reaction to his presence. This had been her idea but still, part of him expected her to turn and run. But he forced himself to stand there as she inspected him. He was still in his white garments, looking exactly the same as the last time she had seen him in that form. Orihime took a step froward, then another until they were toe to toe.

Orihime looked at him in the form that he was in now. She had never thought anything of the fact that he was not in his true form when they made out until she saw Ichigio kissing Rukia when they were out of their gigais. Then she remembered what Ulquiorra had looked like back _then_. Suddenly she had been curious. Their physical contact had been so incredibly limited. Now it was odd when they did not touch. Even Chizuru had left her alone and Tatsuki had finally decided to contain her sparring with Ulquiorra to a controlled environment after she saw how happy he made Orihime. But the sight of Ichigo kissing Rukia like that made Orihime wonder what it would be liked to kiss Ulquiorra in his real form. Now he was standing in front of her, unease in his emerald eyes. She could read him so easily now, she barely remembered those nights when she would lay awake and wonder what he was thinking.

Slowly her fingers reached out and grasped the zipper of his uniform, sliding the metal along its teeth. Underneath she could see his Hole resting near his sternum, the Number 4 tattooed on his chest even though they both knew his power was far greater than that. His muscles were all defined but his entire body was chalk white. Her fingers left his jacket to touch the hardened skin of his chest. It was like touching stone. But it was warm. Orihime pressed her palm to it, shocked at how it felt like skin and at the same time, completely unlike skin at all.

"You're warm," she said, her fingers running over the number 4 on his chest, the tattoo as indistinguishable to the pads of her fingers as the bat tattoo on his arm was. He nodded, "can you feel me when I touch you?" she asked looking up at him.

"To a degree," he replied, his voice tight as her fingers ran down the line of his abs, "it is a side effect of the Hierro."

Her inquisitive fingers ran across the lines on his cheeks, following them down to his chin and slipping to his throat before coming back up to touch the helmet on his head. Unlike the rest of him that was cold. It felt like it was something else, Her fingers slipped down, back to the back of his neck where his skin was warmer. He continued to stand still under her inspection, trying not to give into his natural desire to either move away or crush her against him. She stepped forward again, pressing their bodies together as she turned her head to the side, considering him as her hair swayed across her shoulders. Finally her features broke into a bright grin as she leaned forward and kissed him happily.

His lips were harder but they were still somehow perfect against her own. He kissed the same way he did in his gigai, kisses that left her knees weak and her heart pounding for more. His fingers moved under the fabric of her shirt once more to press against her spine. They felt different now with him out of his gigai, the warm press of flesh though was the same as they swept the length of her spine, her body instinctively pressing against his. Without his shirt his chest was even warmer against her own and suddenly it felt as though the fact she was wearing a shirt while he was not was a bit unfair. She curved her chest back in a silent invitation. Words had never been necessary with Ulquiorra. He was clearly taunting her with the slowness that he undid the buttons of her shirt, usually he had the garment off in a much quicker span of time.

"That's not nice," Orihime breathed against his lips as his hands slid around the bare curve of her waist.

"Foolish _woman_," he murmured as his lips began to work against the column of her throat,

Orihime gasped audibly as her knees weakened at the pure jolt of desire the use of _that_ word sent through her. It had been many months since he had referred to her as _woman_ except when they were fighting. But him in that form, calling her such, well since she had stopped being afraid of him the thought of a scenario such as this had crossed her mind. But she didn't know it would be like _this_. The strong hands on her waist were the only thing keeping her upright as her hands slipped down to the expanse of his shoulders, his warm chest hot against her own. One of his hands moved across her waist, the other reaching up to slip her white shirt down the smooth curve of her shoulder. She gasped at the cool air that hit her in the wake of his warm caress.

"U-Ulquiorra," she choked his name out, her voice a breath moan, desperate with desire as his hand left her arm to slip around to toy with the clasp of the bra, eliciting another whimper from her.

"Damn Hollows! Where the fuck is he?! Our Hollow bitched out on us when we were supposed to go kill other Hollows! I swear to God when we find him I'm gonna kill that bastard."

"Yes because that worked incredibly well the last time you tried it Kurosaki," Ishida said cooly, "oh no, it didn't because all that happened was he was fine and _I_ got stabbed."

"I told you I was sorry for that!"

"Yes, Kurosaki, and while I have accepted your apology I am simply---"

"You're simply wha---"

"---"

Ulquiorra looked over his shoulder to see Ichigo, Ishida and Sado standing there wearing equal looks of disgust and shock. He remembered that he was not in his gigai--and that he was half naked making out with an equally naked Orihime Inoue whose back, shirt hiked up with his hands underneath the fabric, visible to the three men standing there. Ulquiorra was painfully aware of the fact that Orihime had, at one time, been in love with Ichigo Kurosaki while Uryuu Ishida would probably trade the hand she had created to see the breasts that were currently pressed against his chest. Sado on the other hand, well, the fact that Sado was seeing them as it was was embarrassing enough. The poor giant looked like he was going to be sick at the sight of the two of them making out, especially given the form Ulquiorra was in.

"I think I'm going to be sick," Sado managed to choke out before he hightailed it up the ladder.

"Oh God someone rip my eyes out! Inoue you're gonna have to re grow them!" Ichigo cried trying to grab the ladder with his eyes closed. After three false attempts he made it and practically flew up the ladder.

"I assumed that seeing you without limbs would be the most traumatizing thing--outside of getting stabbed--but seeing you like this--" he reached up and took his glasses off, "makes me wish you were in a fight again."

Calmly he put his glasses back on and turned around, climbing up the ladder.

"Oh my God," Orihime blushed and buried his face in his chest, "they walked in on us," she peered up at him, "they walked in on us like this."

While he was not thrilled about the fact that three men had seen his girlfriend half naked, he was far more concerned with the fact that said girlfriend was pressed against him. Thankfully she still had her shirt covering most of her back. His fingers happened to still be slipped under the clasp of her bra. Her breath slipped down his chest as her grey eyes continued to peer up at him. He could feel her lips just to the right of the four tattoo. She looked so impish and cute--not to mention naughty considering she was half naked and pressed against his chest. She tilted her head up and looked at his emerald eyes, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment and her lips pouting up at him. He was not prone to being affected by 'cute' but when cute was half-naked and pressed against his body, well then maybe cute wasn't all that bad.

Angling his head down he kissed her again. Despite her embarrassment Orihime was more than willing to put aside. They had already seen them and probably wouldn't be walking in on them anytime soon again. His hand left her bra clasp closed as it came to slip through the strands of her sunset air. Orihime smiled into the kiss. Just as she loved his eyes best, Ulquiorra seemed to have a fascination with her hair. He loved to comb his fingers through her hair. She loved the feeling of his hands in her hair. His other hand curved, pulling her closer as his pale fingers undid the clasp of her bra, freeing her breasts from the confining garment. Orihime shrugged her other shoulder out of the shirt, letting the fabric hit the dust on the bottom of the ground before her fingers reached up and pushed the fabric of his white shirt down off his shoulders. Ulquiorra moved his arms away from her to shrug the fabric off his body before encircling her in his arms once again.

As Ulquiorra traced the length of her spine with his warm, smooth fingers all Orihime could think was that they were going to have to do their making out in the basement room more often.

He did, after all, have two release forms.

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**Okay so the next one is going to go in line with the Music box ones, because someone asked to see more of Ulquiorra's past that was (briefly) mentioned there.**

**So that's the next one. if you have a storyline or oneshot you want to see followed up on, don't hesitate to ask! **


	19. Overture

**This could be seen as a predecessor to Requiem and Kyrie.**

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The warm breeze slipped through the window and played across his skin, much like the caress of a lover. With a soft sigh Patrick Cifer opened his eyes to the rising sun. The warm smells of the beach floated through the window as well, sun and water and the slightest tinge of salt. He knew outside the little house trees swayed in the early morning breeze that snuck through the curtains. He was content to lay there on the linens of the bed and watch the sun climb slowly up the heavens. Sunrise was beautiful here, just as beautiful as white blond, the sky turning a kaleidoscope of reds and golds before the bright moon took over, hanging pale and gorgeous in the sky. The moon and the sun, each pure and bright in their own strange way. One surrounded by blackness, the other by dreams.

A soft sigh turned his gaze to the woman next to him.

Her skin was painted gold by the sun, the most perfect canvas he had ever seen. The white of the sheets tangled somewhere near her hips, the long, perfect curve of her back completely exposed to his gaze. Her white blond hair was swept over her shoulder, a single lock laying along the pillow, a silent invitation to the skin exposed to his eye. Patrick reached out and curled the silken lock around his finger, twisting it around the digit as he leaned forward until he was almost against her back. He moved his finger, freeing the strand of hair as he ran his finger across the high arch of her cheekbone. She stirred faintly under the caress as he gently ran his fingers across her other cheekbone, cupping her cheek in his palm and turning her face to his, capturing her lips with his own. Her body turned into the kiss, her soft lips curving into a smile as she reached up to touched his face, her hands smoothing across his cheeks and down his neck to run the length of his shoulders.

When she pushed him onto his back he let her as she moved the sheets aside to straddle him. Her hands pushed against his shoulders as he opened his emerald eyes to see her own sparkling down at him. Somewhere between violet and grey, he knew giving her eyes one color was as foolish as giving her hair a single tone. There were worlds in her hair and eyes, worlds that just begged to be explored. She lowered herself to her forearms on his chest, her fingers resting on the curve of his shoulders as she arched her back, looking at him like a cat at a favorite toy. He laid under her embrace, allowing her her fun as she looked down at him.

"That was a pleasant way to wake up," she murmured coyly, mischief sparkling in her eyes. He smiled, one of his hands reaching up to tuck a lock of her hair behind her ear, "always so silent," she murmured leaning down and kissing him, her movements heavy with languid grace.

She pulled away from him, the loss of her leaving him cold despite the warm temperature of the sunny climate. Nude she stepped onto the wood of the floor. Unbound her hair fell down her back, almost completely to the dimples that marked the end of her spine. Her hips swayed as she walked across the floor. He propped himself up on his elbow, his emerald eyes watching as she walked over to the wardrobe, her fingers reaching in to touch the cloths inside. The tendons in her wrists moved against her sun painted skin as she pulled a length of white from the closet and slipped it over her head, her hands pulling her long hair free. Her grey eyes sparkling she glanced over at him, her lips curving into a smile. The sunrise sun slipped through the window higher, the ball of fire painting her blond hair the color of the sunrise.

_The girl in white_

_the sad grey violet eyes_

_The sunset hair_

Patrick rolled onto his back, his eyes focusing on the ceiling above his head. He heard the floorboard creek as she walked back over to him, the sway of her hips moving the fabric of her dress in a hypnotic rhythm. One of her knees pressed into the bed as she leaned forward, her sunrise painted hair falling over his features.

"You're going to miss your flight," she murmured.

"I think I should stay here," he said slipping his fingers through her hair before he pushed himself up, bringing their faces close together, "in fact, I think we should stay in this bed _all_ day."

"Now that is the first smart thing you've said in a while," she said shifting her weight fully onto the bed as she ran her hand across the smooth planes of his chest.

"Elsa," he murmured her name as their lips met again, the cotton of her sundress blocking the skin she shared so freely.

"Stay," she whispered against his lips.

"And risk the wrath of Asuka?"

"Your little sister is rather frightening."

Elsa smiled as she wrapped her arms around his neck, her lips curving into a smile as she turned her head, her hair streaming over her shoulder. She was beautiful in any light, but painted in the light of the sun he loved her best, when her vibrancy overshadowed the coolness of himself. He ran his hands through her hand and turned her, laying her underneath him with the care of a pilgrim worshipping a miracle-laced statue.

His eyes snapped open.

There was no house, no Elsa--he was not in Hawaii but in France. His fingers were pressed against the sheet, his body suspended above the memory of his lover. His fingers tightened in the sheets, the cotton threatening to tear.

It had been _years_ since she had died.

One moment she was there, the next gone. His plane had landed just as the news of the attack broke. His own people--oh _god_, even though she had called him trouble when she met him. She had no idea, she said his eyes reminded her of the wicked green jealousy of lovers hearts. But he hadn't cared. In fact, with a smile he had told her his eyes were like jade, not jealousy. She laughed and he smiled and that was that. She could have called him anything and he would have let her. Just as long as she was _there_. But Elsa with her accent ad sunset hair was nowhere to be seen. She was dead, killed without any sense or reason. His head lowered towards the pillow, forehead pressing to the cool cotton. Nights were the worst. Nights reminded him of her, of her long hair and smooth skin.

Knowing sleep was useless he pushed himself up and got to his feet. After that he had moved to Paris, France. There was nothing left in Hawaii, nothing but memories of a love that ended far too soon. He hadn't wallowed in his grief, he had not consumed his weight in liquor or slept with every woman he saw. Ever since the news of her death reached him all he could feel was the odd sensation of floating. It was as though he was simultaneously experiencing his life and at the same time, not experiencing it at all. Every night when he closed his eyes all he could see was her, dressed in white and painted in the sun. Sometimes he would swear she was close enough to touch and sometimes she would be so impossibly far away that he was sure of the fact he would never see her again.

His apartment was painted in the colors of the night as he walked from the bedroom to his living room. There was a couch and a chair, western style furniture for a western style apartment in a western world. Up against the wall was a studio piano. An old bar he sometimes played in had the piano once and when they went to throw it away he had gotten it for practically nothing--save for the promise that he would play on their newer shinier one. He preferred this one. He had always been something of a musician, not professionally but just for the love of music in itself. Now as he sat at the piano, his fingers resting on the keys, he felt the silence like an overture. Without any conscious decision on his part, the fingers of his right hand pressed onto the keys. The notes that spun from his fingers were high and light, almost childish as they played in the darken, sad room. He did not question the notes or why they sounded as they did, he let the song unfurl around him as his left hand came up to add its own notes.

The music two pieces entwined and spiraled around like vines growing along the side of an old building. Time ceased to exist as he let his fingers run over the notes, the carefree, childish melody taking shape around him. It did not change or grow up but rather remained happy and childish, an ode to a much happier, simpler time. Patrick smiled faintly. Even Asuka was not so carefree for the melody to apply to her. He didn't think he knew a person who he could play the song for and tell them it was their song. He wondered if there was a girl--because sure this was a girls' song--in all the world who was as carefree and foolish as the song suggested. She probably needed to be protected, like a flower from the wind. His fingers picked up the pace as he wondered about the girl. Behind his closed eyes her hair was the color of the sun, her grey eyes gorgeous and innocent, window to her soul while his were like obscuring glass, the windows closed. He looked over at the flickering lights of the city. It was hard to believe a year ago the city had been occupied by people as villainous as his own.

There was a knock at the door.

Patrick lowered his hands and turned, looking at the slats that separated him from the world. He glanced at the door. Time had ceased to exist for him, it had been hours since he had sat at the piano. He glanced back at the window, shocked to see the sky had lightened though the lights still danced below the heavens. Now it was close to dawn. He walked over to the door, swiping a hand over his face. He did not bother with a shirt, ignoring the way the hem of his too-long sweatpants caught on his heels as he reached out and opened the door. If it was a burglar, so be it. Dying had long since ceased to be an alien thing for him. The promise of it seemed to wrap around him, constantly teasing him with a sweet lie of peace. But at the door there was no death, no promise of peace everlasting, no heavenly choirs singing--nothing except a wicked grin that could only belong on the face of the devil.

"Did I wake you?" he asked.

"Nah, I was just gettin in," his neighbor said said, "heard the piano, thought you were wallowing," he grinned wider, "knew you could use company."

Patrick pushed the door open wider, letting his neighbor in. Despite the fact he looked barely the same age as him, his eyes were always knowing, as if anything that Patrick had done or would do he had done and would do again. He said his name was Peter Pindar but Patrick knew that was a lie. Exceptionally well read, Patrick knew that Peter Pindar was a pseudonym of John Wolcot. But he was not one to question people, especially not someone like Peter who would not tell him the truth no matter how drunk he got him or how many notes he played. Peter walked into the apartment, his eyes sweeping the familiar, messy outlines of objects painted in the predawn light.

"You're like a bat," he muttered, "never needing light to see," but even at the criticism his feet never caught on any of the objects, "so," he looked at Patrick, "we missed you tonight down at the club. The pianist this time sucked, couldn't hold a rhythm to save his life."

"I was tired," Patrick said, "thought I'd try to sleep."

"Again?" he snorted, pulling a cigarette out of his pocket and lighting it in the middle of the apartment, "you know the definition of an idiot is someone who makes the same mistake repeatedly."

"I know," Patrick said burying his fingers in his hair as he all but collapsed onto the narrow bench, "I need to sleep but every time I sleep I see _her_ or--" he stopped, his eyes fighting to stay open, "I'm fine, I know she's gone but I can't let her go."

Peter looked down at him, his eyes turning somber as he walked over and pulled up his chair, straddling the back of it as he studied Patrick. Patrick met his gaze squarely, though he did not particularly enjoy the moments when his mysterious friend got serious and started to spew wisdom that spoke of centuries of experience when the man couldn't possibly be that old. Reaching up and running a hand through his blond hair, Peter spun his hat on the fingers that were not holding the cigarette as he seemed to consider his words.

"If there's one thing I've learned," Peter said, his voice low and serious, "its that everything happens for a reason."

"Then what's the reason I can't let her go?" Patrick questioned.

Peter smiled and took a long pull from his cigarette, the smoke swirling out to caress Patrick. He coughed at the subtle attack, his eyes squeezing shut automatically.

_Sunset hair, not painted but all the colors, gold and orange and fire red_

_Grey eyes pleading_

_Begging_

_'Someone help me'_

_Fool_

_Help yourself_

His eyes flew open as he doubled over, trying to escape the vision that pulled at him. Peter balanced the cigarette in his fingers, his eyes looking down at him as though he could see past his body and into his soul. Peter stuck his cigarette into his lips, turning his head towards the window where the first rays of the sun were visible. He looked back down at Patrick who was sitting hunched over, his forearms resting on his knees as he looked at the ground with wide, unseeing emerald eyes. With a sigh Peter flicked his cigarette into the half empty water glass on the table, the embers flickering out and dying.

"That could've been vodka," Patrick pointed out.

"You don't drink vodka," Peter said with a twist of his lips, "and certainly not in a water glass."

"I could've changed," Patrick pointed out.

"You don't change," Peter corrected, "people like you, you don't change. Come hell or high water, you're gonna cling to the rock you're on. It doesn't matter that the rock'll break free or that it'll coast along the waves, eventually that stone's gonna sink and you're still gonna clutch it even though its gonna be the thing that kills you."

"I don't know how to let go," Patrick said, his fingers interlacing, "i think I do but--" he let out a humorless laugh, "the second something goes wrong I--," he looked out the window at the landscape of Paris, painted in the predawn light.

"Let me share something with you, something I learned the hard way, something that took me years of pain and suffering to figure out. There are always _always_ gonna be people who are ambitious enough to think they're supposed to be God. They also happen to be stupid enough to think they can pull it off and brilliant enough to stand a shot at it. And do you know what those people love, more than anything else in the world?"

"People like me," Patrick said, guessing where this was going.

"People like you," Peter confirmed, "they hate people like me because I know how to adapt. I'll let go of that stone and swim to the surface before my lungs start to burn. But they _love_ people like you. People that can't let go. You're the building blocks they use before people like me have to come and tear that mother fucker down."

"You sound like we're going to be soldiers on opposite sides of a great war," Patrick said.

"I've been a solider," Peter said with a shrug looking over as the dawn slipped over the horizon.

Patrick watched as he was painted in the colors of the sun. Slowly Patrick rose to his feet and walked over to the narrow counter that ran across the length of the room, separating it from the kitchen. His hand laid on the white envelope containing the plane ticket. Peter turned his head and watched him for a moment before he turned back to the sun, watching as the world slowly burst into light, like a match being lit. Below the lights of the lamps still danced but above the sun rose to begin a new day that had technically started hours ago.

"I'm leaving," Patrick said.

"Where to this time?" Peter asked, "Cairo? Buenos Aires? Boston?"

"Hiroshima," he said.

"You can go there?" Peter questioned.

"I'm from there," Patrick said.

"Well listen to you. We might be soldiers on opposing sides of a great war after all, Patrick Cifer."

"I doubt that," he said, "war is pointless. Fighting should be done with two people. Your opponent should never become faceless," he said, his fingers tightening on the paper in anger, "you should look into someone's eyes if you're going to kill them."

"You and your stone," Peter pulled a cigarette from his pack and twirled it idly between his fingers, getting to his feet easily without breaking his movement.

"Those things are going to kill you," Patrick pointed out looking at him.

"Just my body," Peter said lighting the cigarette, "just my body," he added turning and walking towards the door.

"Who are you?" Patrick asked as Peter's land laid on the door, "tell me your name--or something."

"I've had a lot of names," he said without turning around, "which name is 'mine' changes," he continued, "you'll understand that one day," he smirked, "and when you die for real, it will be at the end of a sword."

"So you're a psychic now too?" Patrick demanded.

His eyes widened when he saw his apartment was empty. It was as if there had been no-one in it but him. He walked over to the door and touched the handle but it was cold. He looked around. Maybe it had always just been him and the ghosts inside. Was the girl with the sunset hair a ghost as well, waiting in the wings to appear and taunt him as well. His eyes went to the piano. If he played the song enough, would she hear it and appear? If he played Elsa or Asuka's songs, would they show too? His eyes went to the plane ticket in his hands and then to the sun that rose high in the sky. He stared until his eyes hurt. Then, without a word he turned and walked back into the bedroom.

He had a flight to catch.

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**John Wolcot's poems "Pair of Lyric Epistles" is the first mention of the Cheshire Cat. Peter Pindar was the pseudonym he wrote them under. **

**Well that was fun! I seem to be writing Ulquiorra incarnated a lot! He's in another one of my fics in a human form along with some of the other Espada. Its fun to explore them there but its fun to write about him here.**

**I use the name Patrick because of Kubo. He said he based Ulquiorra's name off of Patricia Ulquiora and Hubert Schiffer--since he now uses Cifer I used that in this one.**

**Would you all be interested in me doing a followup to this where he and Orihime talk after she learns about him?**


	20. The Woman Cloaked in the Sun

**Writing excercise to see if I could still do Ulquihime after everything.**

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Keigo Asano was seven, when he stopped believing in Santa Clause.

Tatsuki Arisawa was eight.

Both were informed of the fact that Santa was a lie by Orihime Inoue.

Orihime had never believed in Santa or the Easter Bunny or any of that nonsense. The only person who ever gave her presents was Sora. Maybe if he had been older he would have kept the myth alive but he was so proud of the gifts he was able to get her after saving his coins for months that he couldn't help but give her the gifts himself. Orihime hadn't minded but she had never believed in Santa either. Besides, a fat man in a red suite and fluffy beard couldn't compare to her brother. So she saw nothing wrong with informing her friends of the fact that Santa was a lie. Unfortunately they did and both promptly ran home crying to their parents who decided their children were old enough to know the truth while trading sympathetic glances over poor Orihime Inoue's state.

As time went on and the lies parents told their children began to unravel, Orihime was protected from those hardships by already knowing they were lies. Monsters were parents who shouted and threw things. Guardian angles were big brothers who held you so tight the angry words were drowned out. But her childish heart needed some magic to cling to so Orihime Inoue began to believe in the magic of people. She believed a kind smile could save someone just as much as two hearts could be separated by every and anything but still somehow find each other. She believed in practical magic, the kind she could see but it seemed her friends never could. They called her a dreamer because she could see the magic that they could not. Orihime felt bad for them. She had no reason to believe in magic or fairy tales as things except in stories.

At least, not until she became Ichigo's friend.

Then suddenly she was like a Princess in a fairy tale. She even had fairies. There was magic and people who dressed in wonderful, crazy cloths--there was even a race of warriors who fought the monsters with beautiful, magical swords. Each day was like a chapter out of a story book. She saw horrible monsters defeated by noble and brave warriors. And she got to be on their side, helping when she could. Eventually that wasn't enough, she wanted to fight with them. So she tried so hard to become stronger, to fight with them and defeat the monsters.

Then she met the people who didn't _fit_.

There was Shinji who for all his so-called evilness had the brightest smile she had ever seen. And Hiyori and Lisa and Hachi--all of them were supposedly 'bad guys'. They wore the monster's masks but underneath they weren't monsters at all. They were confusing but she at least knew whose side they were on. Things were certainly not that simple with the monsters who looked like monster, who felt like them and acted like them but somehow--somehow they were not them. Even Grimmjow, who for all his desire to kill Kurosaki refused to do it with him injured. Or Nel, who outranked them all but never wanted to raise her sword without a reason for doing it. Or Pesche and Dondochakka? The line between friends and enemies, between monsters and heroes, it was so blurred when it came to them.

It did not seem to exist for Ulquiorra though.

Somehow, impossibly, he was her captor and her guardian. He took care of her and made her do it herself. He swore that someone would kill her friends but he never made a move to harm her--nor did he tell her _he_ would be the one to kill them. Orihime was so used to being sheltered by people, even when the others told her she couldn't fight they did it in the most gentle way, as if she was a glass doll that could be easily broken. He had never indulged her in such a way. She had never felt so much around another person. She had never been so angry at another person in her entire life. She had also never slapped someone.

But he did not abandoned her after that or any other stunt she--or anyone else--pulled. He was always bringing her back or making sure she kept herself alive. No-one ever really gave her choices. She lived alone but her cousins gave her money, sending it to the right people for her. She was a child in their eyes and girl to be protected in everyone else's. To him she was someone to be protected but even she knew it was not that simple. He did not indulge her tears or her smiles or anything of that sort. He was certainly not a hero, but then again, he was not a monster either. She did not know how to place him in the fairy tale.

She did not think she would ever be able to do so.

But she had seen something in Ulquiorra, something that foolishly, selfishly made her wish that in some impossible way he would live through the war. In some strange way she had begun to wonder why he was not a monster, not completely. Grimmjow had his honor, Nel her morals but why was Ulquiorra the way he was? Every time the words were on her lips he would _look_ at her as though he could see into her very soul. She would never be able to ask such a silly question in the face of that gaze. So she just bit her lip and looked down as he brought food in, the words caught behind her lips.

Then he had to go and ask her what a heart was. When she thought back on the conversation, Orihime still did not know what she would have said. For someone who believed in the magic of people, she believed the heart was the greatest treasure to have. She believed that it giving it to another person was the greatest gift someone could give, knowing that if they ever got it back they would never really get it back whole. Had Ulquirora given his heart away? Maybe he had gotten it back too broken for it to even be there. She had seen his hole move from his throat to lower towards his heart.

She had taken a CPR class once and spent hours pressing her hands to the chests of dummies where their ribs met their sternum. She would have to put her hands on his hole if she ever had to keep his heart beating. Could she even have kept his heart beating? Monsters were supposed to be heartless but would a heartless monster ask if she was afraid of him? She really was not. She was afraid of the Hollows, of her brother when he looked like that. She had been afraid of Ichigo, of Shinji, of everyone who wore the monsters mask. But she was not afraid of them. It was a silly reason but it was the reason none the less.

It was their eyes.

Ulquiorra always had eyes like emeralds, as beautiful and hard as the stones they reminded her of. Grimmjow's eyes were sharp and angry blue, like the sky when the sun was so bright it hurt to look up. They both looked so different in their other forms but their eyes shone through that. Even when he looked like a monster with wings and a tail, the white of his eyes surrounded by the darkness of night they were still _his_ eyes. She could never look away from them. She never wanted to look away from them. She had seen her friends look afraid of him when he appeared like a monster out of a nightmare, but she had never felt that fear. Not even when he killed Ichigo. Her scream had been for her friends, not for herself. Just like her tears and her slap, her scream had no effect on him.

And just like that he was gone.

After every regeneration, every strike he was still gone before she could reach him. Even if she was somehow able to touch him he had a hole where she could have helped him. She reached for him none the less. Months after that happened she would wake up in the middle of the night, tears on her cheeks and her cloths sticky with sweat as her fingers reached for something she would never be able to touch. Her side, her back, her stomach, it did not matter. Her arm would be stretched out reaching for ghosts and dreams in the darkness. But no matter how far she stretched her fingers she would never touch them.

She would never touch him.

She regretted the only time they'd had physical contact was when he had placed the bracelet in her palm. There had been a few other unexpected brushes and when she slapped him but that was the time she would always remember. He held the bracelet between his fingers and she extended her hand, fully expected it to drop into her palm. But he had placed it there, his fingers brushing against her un-calloused skin. Then he tucked his hands into his pockets and turned, walking away with the promise of her return. With distance now she could remember that his hand had been warm, the bracelet too. She hadn't expected him to be warm.

Now that the fairy tale was over.

They won the battle and it was decided it would be best for all if the worlds remained separated. If Hollows were Hollows and people were people and the two did not blend. They had taken special precautions with Ichigo and Ishida and everyone else who ran the risk of remembering. They did not, not anymore. There were times when Ichigo's eyes would linger on a black cat or a flash of violet but he would shake those moments off and go hit something. If Ishida could still create his bows then she did not know about it, only that he was living with his father once more. Sado never gave an indication of knowing either, but Sado rarely gave indications of anything.

They hadn't known about her resistance to the memory wipes.

There were days when she wished she wished she did not remember Shinji's grin or Rukia's kicks and days when she was glad that _someone_ did. She didn't tell her friends of course. There were no parents to tell them that their strange friend with the sunset hair was telling the truth. Besides, they wouldn't believe her anyway. They had never understood the magic she saw, why would they believe it now? So Orihime Inoue kept the fairy tale to herself, hiding behind the bright smile and simple truths she pointed out everywhere. Her friends went back to protecting her, never knowing their protection wasn't needed--never knowing she was the one protecting them all the while.

But in her room, surrounded by the ghosts and dreams she mourned the people they did not know they had lost. She knew the hair pins she had woken up with back in the world were not the ones her brother had given her the day he died. She wished she had those back but she knew that they were probably destroyed by now. She remembered saying how she wished she had five different lives but now she realized she was grateful for having one. Even if it had just been for a little while she had glimpsed a world far more magical than one she could ever have dreamed.

She knew about fairies and monsters, heroes and princesses. She knew of people who fit into categories and that there were those who never would. She knew before her adventure in Las Noches she never would have been able to keep a secret or be strong enough to bear the burden of remembering for everyone. But now she was. She had made a choice without knowing it was hers to make. She still saw the magic in people but she had seen another kind of magic as well. She had seen magic in its purest and its most confusing forms.

The only person Orihime Inoue had never seen any magic in was herself.

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**Okay its not impossible!  
**

**I will get to your followup-requests shortly. **

**But I think I'm gonna update Terebllum first.**

**I need the fantasy fairy tale!  
**


	21. The Great Red Dragon

**This and the past one aren't quite interconnected**

**Okay so the last few chapter titles are:**

**Mirage- wavering image, usually seen in the desert due to heat and dehydration**

**Yokou-japanese for afterglow, lingering light**

**Requiem-music usually played at a funeral**

**Rachis-the central shaft in feathers**

**Overature-the beginning of a series of musical pieces, commonly used in musical theater.**

**The Great Red Dragon and the Woman Cloaked in the Sun-part of 3 paintings of William Blake done as the Great Red Dragon series. They're intended to represent scenes from the Bible. This one is my favorite. **

**I think thats it...**

**I swear I'm getting to the requests. There's just gonna be one more dark, twisty oneshot but that might tie in with another...who knows! **

**Enjoy!**

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Dying was not fun.

It was not a conclusion Ulquiorra arrived to without some experience in the matter. After all, he was not one to believe what he had been told simply because another person thought it was so. No, he knew dying was unpleasant because he had died. In fact, if one approached it logically, he had died multiple times in his life. He had died as a human to be reborn as a Hollow, then he had died as a Hollow to be reborn as an Arrancar. Each time he had been sure that this, this was the end no matter what the Priest said about Heaven or Aizen said about power. But each time, after an indiscriminate amount of time, he would open his eyes and the world would be a bit sharper, a little brighter. He would feel more power flowing through him.

But that would be all he would feel.

It seemed that with each death and rebirth, his heart did not make the trip. Past the most basic of needs he was unaware of what he was feeling as a Hollow but was that not the heart at its most simplistic? The heart sought to protect itself, for without a heart, what was a person? But as an Arrancar he felt nothing. He was nothing, Aizen had made that clear again and again. At the toss of a coin, at the drop of a hat he could be replaced. He knew he was more valuable than that but only to a degree and pushing the boundaries of Aizen's patience was not something he was foolish enough to attempt. It was a matter of survival. Keep your mouth shut, do what you were told or it was over. Loyalty, actually, had very little to do with it. He was as loyal to Aizen as a clown fish to an anemone or a hyena to a lion. They were all used to the cannibalistic nature of Hueco Mundo: eat or be eaten. Once their conscious was regained going back to that was unfathomable for most. So they did what they were supposed to. They stayed.

And then she had to come along.

Her appearance marked the first time he had felt anything past a vague sense of disgust at the world filled with those who had the luxury of having morals. It was not jealousy, morals was what had gotten him into the mess of being a Hollow in the first place. Morals and an inability to let go and, of course, his heart. But when he saw her standing there it was more than her power that stirred him. He would be lying if he did not say he found her beautiful, standing there in the golden glow of her power, her lavender grey eyes quickly shifting from fear to anger. Aside from that idiot Grimmjow, no-one showed him anger. But she did, pure and bright as the light behind her. Even when he showed her her friends in such dire circumstances, even when fear shown in her eyes the anger was still there. It was like the sun, even when it was hidden behind the clouds one knew it was still there, burning brightly.

He always saw it there. Through her tears, her fear he always saw that spark there. He doubted she was even aware of the anger that burned through her. He was never one for games except when he was terribly bored--no small feat for someone who had once spent hours on a roof watching clouds. But he was bored and the spark of anger, it seemed to be taunting him. How could she still be like that despite everything? He supposed he had pushed her too far that one time when he told her that her friends were stupid--even if they were--but instead of breaking like he thought she would she strode forward and slapped him. Even Grimmjow gave him the honor of a curled fist or an outright battle. Slapping was disrespectful, it was saying that someone did not deserve the effort it took to curl ones fist. But she strode up and slapped him, the spark in her eyes roaring to a flame.

Fire, it had no place in a world of dark and cool, no more than a Princess had a place in a world of bloodthirsty warriors with their warped codes of honor. Yet both, it seemed, were encompassed by the woman with the sunset hair and the spark in her eyes. Fire was warmth and light, it was life and it was her. In the world of the dead something like that was more than precious, it was fascinating. He imagined he was put in charge of her because of all the Espada he was the one who pushed his heart away the least. His heart simply did not make the journey with him through his forms. To have a living, breathing, _glaring_ reminder of the foolishness of the heart--what was a better way to ensure his own did not get in the way? Whatever fragments of his heart he pushed them aside until a heart was nothing more than a faint memory, like a dream.

One knew it was a dream but dreams were never what they seemed. Dreams were never practical or told the truth or did anything they were supposed too. Their truths were veiled in gossamer lies. One could glimpse them but never completely, never clearly. He would never fully understand what brought him to his existence as a Hollow anymore than he would understand what brought him to his existence as the Fourth Espada. The pieces would always be scrambled and veiled. His heart had long been lost but under worse circumstances hers shone more brightly. The brightest stars shone even in, no especially in, the darkest night. Hers did even though her stupid friends seemed to think she was in need of protecting and rescuing. Did they not see she was strong? Did she not see? Perhaps she was just as foolish as they were.

It would be a lie if he said he didn't want to kill Ichigo Kurosaki. He wanted to kill him. No, he wanted to rip every lib, ligament by ligament from his body. His heart burned with a desire so profound he barely understood it. After he learned the bastard was alive all he wanted to do was murder him in the most excruciating way possible. The worst part of it was that he was coming for her and she would leave with him. Part of him wanted to her to go, wanted the world to be a simpler place again. But he knew the moment she left she would become the simplistic creature he had stolen an impossibly short time ago. It was not concern that filled him at the thought of her being babied once again, it could not be concern. When he felt all he felt was anger at the orange haired idiot whose black blade would cut him down. And if Ichigo Kurosaki killed him he would have to endure one of those long winded speeches on friendship and love and all the nonsense he had tried and learned--the hard way--was nothing good.

He still asked her about it. How could he not? She had given up everything to save people who treated her like the glass doll she clearly was not. She had gone willingly with him--or as willingly as anyone in Aizen's service did anything--to hell. Yet she still looked at him with those burning grey eyes. In that moment he knew that sailors could have navigated towards the fire that burned in her eyes. After all, wasn't that what the sun was? A star. Just a closer one. It was disgustingly human how the shards of his heart ached or how his fingertips reached for her, for the light and warmth she represented. He had wanted to reach for her before but his fingers always managed to remain by his side. He always remembered he was no longer human and had no right to act like one. But that moment when he reached for her, it was the most human thing he had done in some time.

But her idiot friends came. Dumb and dumber flew in to save the woman who had never really needed to be saved. He didn't pay attention to the one who looked only after her. He could keep an eye on her all he wanted. His attention was consumed by the desire to put Ichigo Kurosaki in a world of pain. He thought it was probably a combination of things. The knowledge that there was no way he could win the fight. The idea that this idiot considered himself worthy of her and she considered _him_ worthy. The fact that Grimmjow had been right in saying they should kill him did not ease his anger any. He did not know when his control snapped, when he went to his second release without a thought to the idea he was winning in his initial release. The only thing that matter was breaking Ichigo Kurosaki, shattering him until there was nothing left but broken bits just big enough so that everyone knew that Ichigo was dead.

In hindsight, if he was approaching things rationally he would have known not to reveal all his cards before his opponent. But emotions had no place in battle, emotions never had any place in battle. His emotions got the best of him and before he knew it he was regenerating more than any battle had required him too. His mission was to protect the castle, duel with him to defend the honor of that woman against her foolish foolish suitor. It so pathetic that the only consolation he could see is that the thing Ichigo Kurosaki became could not string together more than just a few syllables so he wouldn't have to listen to a long winded speech about friendship and redemption. Thankfully by the time the idiot learns to talk again he will disintegrate soon enough that by the time words come out of his lips he won't have any ears for the words to go into.

Throughout it all her eyes continue to burn.

They can't see it but he never looses sight of that spark. It might have been Ichigo's hand that held the sword, his horns that fired the cero but it is _her_ words that brought him to that state. It was her cry for help that reached past the huge fucking hole he blew in his chest and dragged him back to fight. Funny, she did not even have to use her power to reject what he had done. All she had to do was cry out. He did not think even Aizen had power like that. At least he got a handful of good strikes in against whatever Ichigo Kurosaki became, though it was not enough to win the fight. He regained enough of himself to remember that his mission was to defend the castle, not to destroy Ichigo Kurosaki. So he defended the castle---what was left of it anyway.

He knew the feeling too well not to recognize what was happening inside his body. It was fitting that he would die in a different form. His previous deaths had been in different forms as well, the ones he remembered anyway. Standing with few organs, his body healed only to conceal the damage inside, it was a miracle he stood at all. Of course he survived long enough to hear the abbreviated 'friendship speech' . He did not think he had ever heard such few words sound so incredibly long winded.

Well, if the fool is going to be predictable he might as well do something interesting.

The spark is almost gone.

He feels his eyes widen in surprise. It is sputtering and all that is taking over it is a bone deep sadness that seems to cut him to his core. He thinks it is when Kurosaki announces that he still wants to fight on equal ground, despite the fact that he knows just as well as Ulquiorra does that Ulquiorra's death marks the end of any farce of honor the man possessed. When he screams that he wanted to 'win' as if this has all been some game to him even as Ulquiorra feels his body begin to blow away with the wind while Ishida bleeds out somewhere behind him. They are all broken in some way or another but in that moment even though exhaustion is covering her and blood is seeping from Ishida and he is blowing away, despite that all in that moment, at that place Ichigo Kurosaki is the most broken one of them all.

But he is not important, not anymore. It is easy to find her gaze, easy to pick out the sorrow that fills her eyes. Somewhere in the magnification of her tears he thinks he sees the spark once more. The sun is still there, the clouds are simply thicker now. He feels himself blowing farther away. Its not the most pleasant feeling in the world but it hardly the worst he's felt. Once again he finds himself drawn in by the sun. The words that come from his lips are the most natural he's spoken, he gives no thought to them when he questions if she is afraid. The question is not designed for her to tell him a lie or even to give him a revelation, he can already see the answer in her eyes.

When the words leave her lips, in that moment the spark turns from anger to determination and that burns more brightly than he's ever seen it.

And for the first time, in his eyes, she is beautiful.

Standing there, torn and dirtied in the endless night she is the sun and he is the shadows being burned away by her brightness. She has found the strength he had seen from the moment he saw her and he knows, no matter what happens, that Orihime Inoue will survive this war. not as the childish, girly doll they came to rescue but as the woman he always called her. His hand extends just as it did before even though they both know a heart is not something so easily reached. The real surprise, if he is even capable of feeling such a thing, is that their hands do not touch. His fingers are gone before she can reach him. He supposes that is most fitting, after all shadow and light do not co-exist, there is always a line drawn between them. The sun and the moon can forever circle each other but they will never touch, not in a physical way anyway.

The thing about dying, the thing he never quite learned was that to die properly one has to let go. Holding on has brought him nothing but trouble and when he pushed the world away he met the one girl who wouldn't let him do such a thing. Its rather silly but at the end, to him, it seems that the world reaches some kind of harmony. She is solid just as he is ephemeral, the light to his darkness, the hope to his despair. The tears on her cheeks are as real as the ones on his cheeks, the ones he could never cry are fake. The sun in her gaze is the thing he sees as he lets out the air in his lungs and allows the world to slip away. She holds his gaze until he has no more eyes to see it with, as he quietly slips away, the wind carrying him to some unknown place.

She will forever be the bright, glorious sun, but it will only be because he will forever be the quiet darkness that showed her she could shine.

In that way the world reaches its balance.

Its harmony.


	22. Cryptex

**OKAY so this is born out of the theory that Orihime's had something done to her (Grimmy and Ulqui have mentioned it)**

**Yay for Ichigo's honor being (relatively) useful!  


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**

Orihime kept her fingers extended, straining for the darkened ash that was blown by the wind.

He was gone.

Oh _God_ he was gone.

Her hand dropped to her side. Her legs supported her weight for a fraction longer before her knees buckled. She felt Ichigo's grabbed her, trying to support her but his touch _hurt_. Those hands had done such horrible things, all to protect her from an enemy she didn't even need to protect. She couldn't have stopped the scream that came from her lips even if she wanted too. Her body lurched out of his grasp, her hip colliding with the floor as she gasped for air, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel rocks digging into her side, she could feel every cut and scrape and bruise. The hand she had reached for him with scraped against the ground, her skin tearing easily. She squeezed her eyes shut, one hand digging into the ground as the other lay there limp.

He had reached for her and she--she hadn't been about to touch him. Her voice had screamed for Ichigo. Her fingers had reached for Ulquiorra and in the end no good had come from either. She was supposed to be a healer, her touch was supposed to save people, not condemn them. But she hadn't saved anyone, not Ulquiorra, not Ichigo--all she wanted to do was become stronger and all she had done was become a plague. It was better when she was weak but she could at least be saved properly. Now she couldn't even do that. She felt her shoulders shudder as tears gathered under her tightly shut eyes. Every stone, every splatter of blood--this was all her fault. How could the others kill like that and feel nothing? She had caused pain and destruction but she hadn't killed anyone and still she felt as though her very soul was destroyed.

A wet cough forced her to open her eyes. Ishida was doubled over, the bright red spreading far enough out on his robes to be visible even when the wound was hidden. One hand was pressed tightly to his stomach in an obviously failed attempt to staunch the bleeding while the other was clapped tightly to his mouth. Blood seeped through his fingers as well as his body began to succumb to the injuries inflicted on it. Injuries by Ichigo's hand, injuries that had happened because of her. Ichigo stood there, his features contorted in sadness and pain and frustration. Orihime stared at Ishida and at Ichigo. They had come to save her. When they went to save Rukia things had worked out. She couldn't even be rescued right! She felt her chest heave in a sob.

"I-I don't know what to do," her voice was weak and soft and desperate even to her own ears. Her head turned towards them, "why did you come for me?" she gasped through her tears, "you weren't supposed to come here!"

Her body shuddered as another sob spilled from her lips. He was gone, he was really and truly gone. No emerald eyes, no cyan lines, no broken helmet or coal black hair. There would be no more 'eat the food, woman' or 'go to sleep, woman,' or _anything._ Not ever again. All that was there were two men on a plain of ruins who willing to defy orders, willing to go to hell if it meant that she could come home safe. She would never be more than a child in their eyes, never be anything but someone who needed to be saved. She would be _Inoue_, big breasted, simple minded Inoue who dreamed of robots and spaceships and fairies. The tears fell harder down her cheeks. She had gone to protect them and she had failed to do anything of the sort.

She was a fool.

It was harder to breath suddenly. Her chest heaved but it was as if any air she drew through her parted lips never made it to her lungs. Her fingers tightened in the gravel,the flesh from her palms scraping against the gravel. Her chest heaved in another desperate, unsuccessful attempt to draw air through her lungs. Her head was spinning. The fall to the ground seemed impossibly long. She felt her hair stream out, the air brush past her cheek and finally she felt her body crumple to the ground. her eyes never left the spot where Ulquiorra had blown away from her. Her hand stretched forward, her fingertips reaching for something that she would not grasp, something that she would _never_ be able to grasp. She could die reaching for it and she would die, but she would never touch it.

She did not feel when her hand hit the ground.

**

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**

The two men stared at her prone form as she lay on the ground, one hand stretched towards the empty air. Ishida felt concern surge through him, not caring that he was the one laying there with his insides filling with blood. He could see her chest moving, had she just fainted or was something more going on? He could not help but think the latter was the case. It was as if the world had paused for a moment, holding its breath in anticipation for what was to come. He could not help but do the same as he stared at Inoue's body. Suddenly, as if some invisible cue had been given, the world began to move once more.

As if in a trance Orihime rose to her feet. Her head lolled slightly, as if her mind was not completely in control of the actions. Even when she was upright her hair fell over her face masking her features. Slowly she straitened completely, her head righting itself. But when her grey eyes opened they were vacant, as if someone had taken Orihime Inoue's body but left some essential part of her behind. It was as if she had become heartless, or perhaps she was heartbroken. Either way when she faced them he knew that if he screamed her name, if he died right there, Orihime Inoue would not come back to them. Her eyes stared at them, but even he knew that she did not see them. Slowly, as if someone had turned a light on inside her, her eyes began to shine. He could have mistaken it for the moonlight initially but when the glow brightened further, when her hair began to blow in some invisible breeze, he knew something else was going on.

"Soten Kisshun, I reject," she stated,her voice soft and human and somehow completely alien, all at the same time.

The glow that enveloped him was unlike any he had seen her use. It was still her fairies but instead of being a shield they were two streams of light. They started at his feet and spiraled upwards. In their wake every injury he had was gone. His hand was there almost instantly, the internal damage gone as well. By the time they spiraled up the crown of his head everything from his fatal wound to the scrapes on his knees was nothing but a distant memory. Without a word she turned and walked away, the glow surrounding her beginning to brighten further. It was as if the sun was rising in Hueco Mundo, the only problem was that the 'sun' was Orihime Inoue.

"Come on!" Ishida jumped to his feet as Orihime stepped onto mid air and began to descend slowly, "we have to go after her!"

They ran after her as fast as they could. She moved with grace and speed that had them both scrambling to keep up like clumsy idiots. She landed back where their fight had first started and continued into the depths of Las Noches. The two raced after her but she moved much faster. Even so they managed to keep her within their gaze. She seemed to know where she was going but they had no idea. Or maybe she had no idea and whatever invisible force was pulling her was giving her directions. Either way her steps had a purpose.

"Inoue what are you doing?!" Ichigo demanded, _Shunpoing_ in front of her, "Inoue stop it."

Orihime turned her vacant eyes to him. Ichigo's hand which had been reaching for her hovered in mid air.

"Santen Kesshun, I reject!"

Ichigo was slammed up against the wall by the gold shield, his head cracking against the stone. The shield held him there for a fraction longer in a silent warning before it returned to Orihime. Blinking stars out of his eyes the two of them pursued the woman once more. She moved deeper into the bowels of Las Noches, her eyes still open and glowing though her feet clearly knew where she was going. Every twist, every turn she navigated as if she had a map drawn somewhere in her mind. It was as though she had not just spent time imprisoned but time wandering the corridors. Finally they arrived a pair of massive double doors. Orihime held out a hand, her fingertips pointing at the gilt structures.

"Koten Zanshun, I reject," in contrast to her sharp command with ichigo, this was the same soft distorted voice she had used before.

The effect, however, was anything but soft. Gold streamed across the doors, power surging upwards, cresting for a breathless moment before they shattered, fragments slamming outwards past them and into the opposite wall. Orihime lowered her hand as Tsubaki returned to her hairpins. Though dust obscured the room she walked in none the less. Ichigo and Ishida scrambled after her. Once they got past the dust it became clear just what she was going for. In the center of the room, resting in a glass box was the Hogyoku, the violet orb somehow hovering suspended in the center of the structure. Without a glance to the two of them Orihime walked over to where the orb was resting. Ishida lunged forward, throwing himself in her path.

"Inoue--Inoue! What are you _doing_?!" he demanded.

"The Hogyoku must be--" her lips fell silent as if even _she_ wasn't sure what the Hogyoku must be, "move."

"I can't do that," he said with a shake of his head. Her fingers moved to summon her shield, "you can throw me all you want but I'm not going to let you hurt yourself."

Her glowing eyes locked with his. It hurt to stare at her but he continued to do it, his body blocking her. For a moment he thought that he had reached her but she drew her hand back.

"Santen Kesshun! I reject!" she cried.

He would never know how he managed to dodge the shield, rolling to the side as the gold light slammed into the area where he had once been. He vaulted to his feet, his body tensing for the next attack she would throw his way. He had fought demons, now it seemed he was fighting Gods. When he got back to the transient world he might actually have a decent excuse to tell his father. Her head cocked to the side as she looked at him before she threw her hand in the opposite direction, the gold light slamming Ichigo against the opposite wall. She kept her gaze on Ishida.

"Why doesn't he fight me?" she asked.

"He thinks this is his fault," he said, "you got kidnapped because of him."

"Kidnapped," she repeated the word, "I was--" for a moment her features contorted with the same confusion before they smoothed out again and she turned back to the orb.

What had set her off like this? It seemed like she had been lost to the power that flowed through her, as if whatever had kept her grounded was gone. it was like she was a kite cut from her string and set free in the breeze. There was no controlling her, no reasoning with her. She was acting irrational, cold and irrational--something that was not a good combination. Though she had always been a dreamer, this was something else entirely. But they were there. Their presence should have done something. They were always able to reach their friends, to help each other. Her voice had brought Kurosaki back from his death so he could--

_Are you afraid of me?_

_I'm not afraid_

Oh shit.

Ishida stared up at her. Ulquiorra had said rescuing her was pointless. Was this what he meant? They did something to her. Orihime had never been this powerful, not in any way that she could use. She was bright and light and sun in the middle of a darkness so profound Ishida had wondered if that reverse moon would be the last thing he ever saw. Orihime had always needed to be rescued, or so they assumed. She was so bright, so happy--she was a reminder of all the innocence that they had lost so long ago. Unable to protect their own innocence they had fought to protect the innocence of others. But that had changed, her grey eyes were not innocent anymore. Neither were they somber, at the moment they were a maelstrom frosted over emotions. Of determination, of anger--

Of grief.

This had happened when Ulquiorra had blown away in the wind. But he had kidnapped her. Why the _hell_ would she be mourning his death? Now though he saw it in her bright eyes. She was grief stricken at his death. He thought she reached for him out of pity or sadness or because she was a good person and the idea of not reaching for a dying man when he held his hand to you was unfathomable to her. But no, no she had reached for him again and again, she had gotten into this state reaching for him. It was not his touch she feared, it was Ichigo's that had frightened her. And he, he head reached for her as well. Despite all he had done he had reached for her. In the end though, hadn't he gone to his second form to kill Ichigo after Ichigo had come to take her back? He said his mission was to defend Las Noches but all Ichigo wanted was Orihime. They would have left Las Noches alone otherwise.

"Inoue what are you going to do with the orb?" he asked again, struggling to keep his voice calm.

"I am going to destroy it," she said reaching her hand out towards the box.

Could she even do that? He had no doubt that she was powerful enough but even so, he could not help but think Aizen had a fail safe in place, something that had to do with the power surge she was experiencing. From the horrified look in Ichigo's eyes it was clear that he was thinking along the same line. The shield holding him in place suddenly retracted back to her as Orihime faced the box. The two men stared at each other across the room, both moving forward towards her. Orihime reached for the box, her fingertips laying on the glass surface. The orb inside trembled, as if it was being called towards her, as if her touch was the only thing it wanted--as if her power would set it free.

"Wait!" Ichigo moved forward, "please--uh--"

"Resurrect Ulquiorra Schiffer!"

Her fingertips lay on the surface of the box as Ishida's plea hung in the air. Ichigo stared at him, obviously dumbfounded but Ishida kept his eyes on Orihime. Her eyes were still bright, still glowing and still a storm of barely contained emotions but shock seemed to have joined the rest of them. Her fingertips rested on the box but they made no move to reach for the orb. Slowly her head turned towards Ishida. Ishida had a feeling that he was going to regret this but the only way he could see things being any worse was if Orihime somehow joined with the Hogyoku. Ulquiorra had displayed some sense of honor in the battle and some degree of emotion towards Inoue. He had also said he was beginning to find them interesting. Considering how cold and bored Ulquiorra always looked, Ishida hoped that he wouldn't want to throw away the one interesting thing in his life at the moment.

"I want to finish our fight!" Ishida looked over at Ichigo. Though he was clearly not in love with the idea, he seemed to be thinking along the same lines, "I don't want my Hollow to win any battles, especially not this one. Our fight wasn't fair!"

It was lucky that Ichigo was so obsessed with his honor. Even through the haze of whatever gripped her the idea that an enemy should be resurrected in the name of fairness poked through much as the need to protect had slipped through Ichigo's madness. Under his knee Ishida crossed his fingers. Whatever was going to happen when she got her hands on that orb was not going to be a good thing. If nothing else Ulquiorra would know what that was. No-one moved for a moment, all of them were still as they waited and Orihime considered their request. She turned back to the orb, the Hogyoku trembled once again at her approaching power. Ishida felt his fingertips begin to make a bow while Ichigo reached for his own sword.

"Soten Kisshun, I reject."

The words were uttered softly and softly the two lights went to an unobtrusive square of floor. They started at the ground and spiraled upwards. When they reached his heigh they spiraled downwards again. Upon reaching the floor the went upwards. It was like watching a typewriter. For two turns nothing happened. Then another Spiritual Power, faint at first, began to join theirs. Loathing himself but knowing what had to be done Ishida drew back his bow and took aim, firing into the space between her fingers and the box. Her hand snatched back as she turned to look at him. He got to his feet. Out of the corner of his eye he could see a shape beginning to take place, like an out of place shadow. An orange blur streaked past him and he turned to see Ichigo grab Orihime's wrist and jerk her away from the box. Neither of them wanted to hurt her, neither could bear to do such a thing but they had to keep her away from the box for as long as they could. They felt her powers spike as she obviously got more agitated. Ishida saw the shadows harden as they took the shape of a skeleton and turned bone white. The fairies moved faster now, her power increasing with her anger.

"Kurosaki!"

Ichigo looked at him and at the fairies and realized what he was implying. Ulquiorra saw red join the bone white as more of his insides were remade. They had to keep her distracted as she continued to remake Ulquiorra. It was rather nauseating, even for Ishida and Ichigo who had grown up around injured people. His father had been buying Ishida anatomy books since he could read and watching organs reform was actually nauseating for him. Orihime glared at the two of them, her eyes still furious as white began to form, starting at his toes and arching upwards. Ishida quickly averted his eyes, thankful when the hem of a pair of hamaka appeared on his legs. She was reforming him back to when he had first been, unreleased just as Ichigo was at the moment. Finally when he glanced back he saw Ulquiorra Schiffer standing there, his eyes closed and his hands limp by his sides. It was a wonder he was even standing upright.

The fairies continued to move up and down his form, healing whatever remaining damage there was. Ichigo distracted Orihime as Ishida stared at the supposedly dead man. What if it didn't work? What if they had just signed their own death warrants? What if--what if--his fingers twitched. Ishida's eyes widened as the bone white appendage, one that should no longer be there twitched. The fairies gave a final pass, revealing _Murcielago_ at his hip before they retreated back to Orihime. The Fourth Espada's eyebrows knitted together as he slowly opened his emerald eyes. His Spiritual Power surged as he opened his eyes and looked around. It was far more contained than the impossible amount he had in his full secondary release. His emerald eyes widened, he was obviously stunned that he was still alive. Slowly his hand raised upwards until it was right in front of his face.

"Fight him," Orihime's voice came before she turned towards the orb once again.

Ulquiorra's emerald eyes widened fractionally before his features hardened once again at the sight of her in such a state. Clearly he had been informed of such a thing, there was no surprise or fear in his eyes when he looked at her. He glanced at Ishida and then at Ichgio. Ichigo looked away but Ishida kept his gaze on his. He couldn't resist moving his healed hand into plain sight though. He could have sworn he saw the barest smile on Ulquiorra's lips before the Espada returned his gaze to Orihime. There was the dullest echo of _Sonido_ before he was in front of her, his hand enclosing her wrist, preventing her hand from touching the orb. Her eyes widened but there was no recognition in them.

"Santen Kisshun! I reject!"

Ulquiorra moved, not out of the range of the shield but behind Orihime, her arm twisting up and behind her back. Unlike them he clearly had no problem using force against her. Orihime twisted around his grip, breaking it. Ulquiorra kept himself firmly between her and the orb. Orihime shifted into a formal fighting stance, her glowing eyes focused on him. She lunged forward abruptly, her moving towards him. Ulquiorra blocked the blow, her soft skin no match for his hardened one. He made no move whatsoever to attack her, he only kept her from getting to the orb. When she opened her mouth he appeared behind her suddenly, one hand wrapping around her shoulders and the other coming to cover her mouth. Her eyes widened.

"That's enough, woman," he said, his voice low.

As if some magic word had been spoken, some key pushed into a lock and turned, Orihime's eyes widened further, her jaw moving to reveal it was slackened. The glow vanished as the light fled and with it, whatever strength was keeping her upright. Slowly her eyes slid down to the bone white hand pressed over her lips. With a soft sigh her eyes rolled up and she collapsed in his arms. Ulquiorra stood there, the woman with the power of the Gods in his embrace. Slowly the two men walked over to where he stood.

"What the hell was that?" Ichigo demanded.

"A fail safe," Ulquiorra said, "Orihime Inoue was supposed to join with the Hogyoku."

"Why?"

"Why would someone want a being with the power of the Gods and an orb able to burn away the barrier between Shinigami and Hollow?"

Ishida and Ichigo traded glances before looking at him.

"This was trigged by your death," Ishida said, his eyes remaining on Ulquiorra, "she only went to this state because of you," Ulquiorra said nothing but his silence was more than enough of a confirmation.

"You were supposed to defend Las Noches! So what, so if you _die_ she goes like--like that and tries to kill us?" Ichigo demanded.

"I'm sure its much more complicated than that Kurosa--"

"Yes."

They turned at his flat reply. He met their gaze squarely, Orihime still draped over his arm, her sunset hair falling over her features. Her arms were limp towards the ground, her legs limp as well. Ulquiorra's arm was the only thing supporting her. If he was shocked at her resurrecting him it was clear that he was not going to share those emotions with them. No his eyes were on Orihime's hidden features. The two of them looked at the pair, knowing that nothing was ever going to be the same again.

Especially not when Ulquiorra reached out and brushed the hair from Orihime's features.


	23. Midnight

**Okay now is the time when all you kids look away!**

**THIS IS A HEAVY M!!!**

**Thats right people, its Ulquihime sexy time. This goes in with Songs of Experience and Songs of Innocence and that whole world where Aizen wins etc. **

**Oh and there's a lemon.**

**I figured I had a bunch of chapters with makeouts, heavy pettings and etc, it was time for them to do the deed. **

**Someone wanted to see this plotline explored more. Also I'm gonna do a followup to the music box one. I'm still updating this sporadically. Yayy for Oneshots.**

* * *

Of all the crimes that Sosuke Aizen had committed, this was just the most degrading one in the opinion of Orihime Inoue.

As Aizen's power had progressed, as his reign took even stronger hold throughout the world her outfits had become increasingly formal, earthreal cloths to befit a Goddess. The dress that hung just out of the corner of her eye was by far the most spectacular piece of clothing she had ever seen in her entire life. She stood in the middle of her room, holding herself still as a female Arrancar laced her into a tight corset that made her breasts seem even larger than normal, her waist even smaller than before. Her hair had already been done, the elaborate style leaving her neck bare. What seemed like a thousand pins laced through the style, light sparkling off hundreds of crystals. The room was silent save for the scurrying of Arrancar and the agitated swish of a tail.

Having been forced to do a sweep of the palace for security, despite the fact he was still on thin ice with the man they both called Master, Ulquiorra had returned to her rooms, not even bothering to caste off his secondary form. The Arrancar had gasped as he walked in but Orihime had just been concerned with holding herself still as one of the Arrancar painted shimmer on her eyelids. Now Ulquiorra leaned on a chair, one taloned foot digging into the arm rest as his tail whipped back and forth, the only outward sign of nervousness. Orihime felt it too but it showed plainly on her face. She was terrified of being paraded around like some symbol of hope. So many people were there and they were all going to be looking at _her_. She wanted nothing to do with it, with them, with Aizen but she hardly had a choice in the matter. She took some comfort in the fact that Ulquiorra would, at the very least, be beside her.

Finally two of the Arrancar grabbed the spectacular dress and brought it over. It was the color of ivory with a low bodice and clingy skirt that ended in an long train. Bustles in the skirt made her feel like a confection rather than a person. Crystals decorated the bodice, cascading onto the skirt and, in the back, to the hem of the dress as if a child had dumped a box of glitter on her dress. The bottom hem of the front of the dress was decorated in crystals as well. Carefully Orihime stepped into the skirt. Two of them pulled the bodice upwards, sliding it over the resistance her hips gave before settling the bodice near her bust. Orihime obediently slid her arms through the narrow bands of crystal studded silk. The dress was so stiff that if she held herself very still it took little to keep it the thing upright as long as the edge of the petticoat remained balanced on the floor. The Arrancar came to her back to do up the dress.

"Leave," she spoke abruptly. They traded looks, "_now_," she commanded.

They knew better than to question her and fled, leaving her alone with her protector. Orihime kept her hands on the bodice of the dress, counting her heartbeats and listening to the oddly comforting swish of his tail. Finally she heard his talons work free of the upholstery. She heard the click of his talons across the floor as he walked over to her. The click became footsteps, the bottoms of his boots just a different kind of echo in the emptiness of her rooms. Orihime turned her gaze to the mirror, watching as her emerald eyed guardian approached the place she stood. Finally he reached her. Without so much as a word he reached out and began to do up the buttons that spanned her spine. The dress tightened with the action, the bodice clinging to her waist which was made even more narrow by the corset. She longed for kimono at the moment, but she knew this was yet another attempt on Aizen's part to remind the world that he was not like his predecessors.

Abruptly Orihime spun around and threw herself into his arms. Ulquiorra's own came up around her immediately. She did not cry, if for nothing else she did not want to have to go through the process of redoing her makeup. No she just stood there, breathing in that scent of earth and all that was dark and unmovable in the world that was Ulquiorra. She closed her eyes tightly, wishing she could be as emotionless as he sometimes was. Things would be so so much easier if she could not feel. And certainly if she could not feel like _this_.

"I can't go out there," she gasped, her voice muffled by his chest, "I can't do this!"

"Yes," he said, his voice soft but firm, "you can."

"No," she shook her head, her forehead rubbing against the fabric of his shirt, "I'm not strong enough to do this--" she drew back fractionally and looked up at him, "I can't marry him!"

Ulquiorra closed his eyes, the words sending tendrils of agony up his spine. He did not want to see her marry Aizen anymore than she wanted too. Political or no the idea that she was going to bind herself to him more than she already had was one he was not sure he could stomach. He had faced agony for her safety--he would face hell for her safety but watching her do this would be even more horrible than he had thought possible. But if he took her away, if they ran like two errant lovers, the world was Aizen's and they had nowhere to go. This was how things had to be. He was her guard, her protector--he was many _many_ things but the fact was that AIzen was God here. It was his word that was law, his demands were not negotiations or requests, they were the only thing that mattered.

What Aizen wanted was a wife and an heir, to solidify his power.

Who had he chosen for such a task?

Orihime Inoue.

After all the child of such a union, two of the most powerful beings to exist, would be powerful enough to survive attempts on its life. It was purely political, it made sense and was done with the same cold calculation that Aizen did everything these days. Unfortunately it meant that Orihime Inoue would become his bride. And Ulquiorra would have to watch it happen, unable to interfere with anything. His fingers tightened around her. He did not want to watch her marry someone else--to watch her marry _anyone_ else. No more than she wanted to marry the man who had really been responsible for everything that had happened.

They heard the rap on the door.

"Its time," he murmured.

"Y-you're going to look at me--" she sucked in a breath of air, "a-and its gonna be different and--"

"No," he cut her off, "I will look at you and I will see you like this," he said leaning down and gently pressing his lips to hers.

She did not cry as she looked at him, only met his eyes with the quiet sort of strength he had come to expect from her. He forced himself to walk to the door first, she following him.

Then they exited the room that had become their sanctuary and walked out to face the rest of the world.

**

* * *

**

He did not sleep.

He knew it had been hours since she had gone with Aizen to consummate their marriage but he also knew that Aizen would send her back to this room the moment he was done with her. He felt disgust towards the man who had created him and wondered if he had ever treated her so horribly. His stomach rolled unplesantly at the thought. Angrily he ran his hand through the unhelmeted side of his hair, hating how emotional he felt at the moment. Emotions meant he was vulnerable but the image of what those hands would do to her--it made him _sick_. His fingers clenched around the hilt of his Zanpakto. He needed to kill something. He walked over to the window, intent on going hunting for blood when the door opened behind him. Two taloned feet and a pair of soft footfalls. He whirled around to see her standing there. The Arrancar left immediately.

"U-Ulquiorra--" his name was a desperate plea on her lips as she raced the distance throwing herself into his embrace.

She was shaking like a leaf, tears and sweat clinging to her like a stain. He did not need to have the heightened ability to smell to know there was blood on her--her blood on her. He had caught a glimpse of her violet grey eyes and seen the raw terror and fear that existed in them. Fear that had no purpose, no use. Her desperate sobs tore at him in a way he had not known was possible before that moment as she clung to him, her chest heaving with sobs. He scooped her into his arms as delicately as he could but she still gasped when he moved her onto the bed.

He did not ask what he did to her. He could fight every enemy in the world except for the man who had created him. She would no more tell him than he would ask. They were both powerless in the face of such a figure. He moved to get water, or something to ease her pain but her fingers locked in the fabric of her shirt, her eyes on his.

"I-I can still feel him," she whispered, her voice soft and ragged.

"He will not touch you tonight," he promised, knowing that telling her he would not touch her again was impossible, "I swear."

"I feel it," she moaned, her voice low and terrified, "it was--" she looked at him, "I need you."

"Woman--" he looked down at her, truly shocked.

"_Please_," she whispered, reaching out and pulling him closer.

Their lips met, mouths parting, tongues slipping into each other. Her arms wound around his neck as she pulled him closer, desperate to rid herself of any reminder of Aizen's touch. His movements were gentle but only because he was worried he would hurt her. he had hurt her enough to last a thousand lifetimes, the last thing he wanted to do was cause her more pain. Through the thin shift Aizen had left for her she felt the smooth, hard marble of Ulquiorra's palms. Her body's reactions to him were such a sharp contrast to the way everything inside her _recoiled_ at Aizen's touch.

His smooth hands slipped up the expanse of her thigh as he lowered her fully onto the bed. His lips continued to play against her own, their kisses moving from gentle to much more insistent. They had toyed around before but never far enough--always stopping before they did something more. Orihime regretted that it was Aizen's touch that had taken her innocence and not Ulquiorra. Her mother had been an adulteress, she had always thought she would be faithful to her husband. But if her husband was such a wretched man then she understood where her mother was coming from. Ulquiorra's left hand curled around her own, gently unfurling her fingers. Her wedding band slipped easily off. She heard it hit the ground and did not mourn as one of Ulquiorra's legs moved between her thighs, his other hand gently pulling the hem of her dress up higher on her body.

Orihime sat up, pushing him back into a sitting position as well. She did not feel afraid or ashamed as she gathered the already bunched up hem of her dress in her hands and pulled it over her head. Before either of them could figure out the reasons this was a bad idea she grabbed the zipper of his jacket and tugged it down, revealing the planes of his chest. She slid the fabric off his shoulders, moving forward and placing soft, teasing kisses along the curve of his neck. She knew he could barely feel them thanks to his skin but it was fun to watch him try to hold himself still under such a simple touch. His jacket fell to the bed as her hands slipped around the belt of his hakama.

Instead of bothering with the the thing she reached out and pushed the fabric down, leaving them both naked on the bed. She did not hesitate as she pressed her body closer to his, her arms wrapping around his shoulders. His hands slipped down the length of her spine, her body instinctively moving even closer to him. Her legs moved apart as he eased her back against the expanse of the bed. One of her legs wrapped around him as he buried his face in her shoulder, his lips pressing against the porcelain skin of her throat. She gasped raggedly, her fingers slipping through the midnight hair that was not encased by his helmet. A low moan fell from her lips as she arched into his touch.

He slid into her gently. She gasped, her body tensing as her other knee pressed against his side. His fingers tightened around the sheets as her eyes fluttered opened as she locked her violet grey orbs with his bright emerald ones.

"_Ulquiorra_," she moaned his name, her voice desperate and pleading. No-one had ever said his name like that, "p-please--" she gasped arching her body against his.

Ulquiorra moved against her, drawing moans and curses from her lips. He had never heard such language from her before but he had never had sex with her either. She buried her face in his shoulder, her fingers digging into the muscles of his shoulders. Despite the fact that his skin was hardened he could feel her nails against it. Orihime squeezed her eyes shut as she felt heat fill her. This was nothing like with Aizen. She had never thought that this would happen, that she would be with Ulquiorra--that she would _want _to be with Ulquiorra. But she did want to be there, she wanted to be with _him_. Orihime gasped, her legs wrapping around Ulquiorra.

He sealed his lips over hers, swallowing her scream as her body clenched around his. He buried his face in her shoulder, her porcelain skin muffling his own hoarse shout.

Her arms wrapped around him as his forehead pressed to her shoulder. Finally they moved apart, just enough so they were laying side and side instead of on top of each other. She moved close to him burying her face in his chest. It only took a moment for her tears to begin, to slip down the exposed skin of his chest. His arms wrapped around her as her body shook. He did not know why she cried, maybe for the loss of her innocence or perhaps for something he would never truly understand. He had known from the moment he took her away from everything that she did not belong in such a place as this--she never truly would. But this was where she was, this was the only place in all the world. And here, in this room, perhaps there was one place in the world that Aizen's touch had not marred--not yet.

"T-the w-whole t-t-time," her soft, choked voice reached his ear, "w-w-when i was s-saying th-those vows--" she raised her tear filled violet ones to his, "i--"

"Woman--" he began, concern in him. One of her hands reached up and touched his cheek.

"I wished he was you," she whispered, her eyes sad before she looked down at the space between them, shame coloring her cheeks.

He found his hand reaching out, gently pulling her face up to his.

"So did I."

* * *

**Wow that was depressing. Sexy, but depressing. Oh and take it from someone who knows, Hakama are a LOT more complicated than one would think. Especially trying to get them off someone with the ties and stuff--depending on material its best to pull/cut/yank. **

** I've got a rather funny one coming up next that involves High-School Ulqui talking to Ishida and Tatsuki. Its really funny and plays with Ulqui's poor social ineptness.**

**Remember if you have a plotline you wanna see let me know! **

**I still love Ulquihime!!  
**


	24. Dead Man's Hand

**This is a light hearted, funny oneshot with High School Ulquiorra.**

**I just wrote a very bittersweet ending to my story "Toro Nagashi" and i don't want to fall into writer's block.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

"Are you in love with Orihime Inoue?"

In hindsight, Ulquiorra Schiffer realized the question was probably the wrong one to ask, especially when his dining companion began to choke on the water he was drinking. Swearing and coughing, Uryuu Ishida struggled to clear his lungs as he stared at the former Espada sitting across the bench from him. They were in the yard of Karakura High School, eating lunch when Ulquiorra had dropped the question on Ishida. Finally managing to draw a less painful, substantial breath as he stared at Ulquiorra. Pulling off his glasses he wiped his eyes and looked at him. The green eyed man sat there, looking at him calmly and waiting for a reply to his question.

"Hey guys!"

Neither moved as Tatsuki dropped her lunch onto the table and sat next to them. Orihime was home sick with a cold--something she assure Ulquiorra was nothing to be concerned about--while Keigo and Asano had cut school. Sado and Ichigo had gone out to take care of few Hollows so Ishida had been put on babysitting duty. They had decided that Ulquiorra was new enough to the world that leaving him alone was a very bad idea. Though Tatsuki was more than able to deal with him in a gigai the fact was that it would be best for everyone involved if someone with Spiritual Power was near. Ishida did not exactly mind babysitting the former Espada but at the moment he was torn between being furious and incredibly embarrassed at the question. True to form when he did not get an answer from Ishida he turned to someone else.

"Is he in love with Orihime Inoue?" he questioned the pixie haired girl.

"Yeah, he and everyone else in this school," she looked up and down the Espada, "why? Are _you_ in love with her?"

Ulquiorra's eyes went strait ahead. Ishida stared as Tatsuki's eyes widened in surprise. Despite the fact that their first meeting had almost resulted in her death thanks to Yammy, Ulquiorra seemed to actually not hate her like he did most of the population. Probably because their first day of school he had beat up Chizuru _and_ Shinji for hugging Orihime at precisely the same time she slammed a desk into Ichigo's stomach and proceeded to beat him hard enough that even with all his guilty honor he had to block her hits. The two had spent the day together since the teacher wasn't letting _any_ of the others out of the room. Of course once she found out exactly who Ulquiorra was he was on the receiving end of one Tatsuki's desk-pwning-tantrums. But in the end they had worked out an odd sort of friendship. As it turned out caring about Orihime Inoue while simultaneously wishing that Ichigo Kurosaki would be dead in the ground was a powerful bonding tool.

As for Ishida, once the Quincy had his hand regrown and his abdomen healed, he had approached Ulquiorra's return with them with the same calmness that Ulquiorra had observed. Given the fact they were both thin, pale and ebony haired the easiest thing was to pass Ulquiorra off as a relation of Ishida's. In fact, Ishida was far more concerned with making sure Ryuuken Ishida knew that not only had his son assisted a Shinigami but he had also brought back an Esapda. He had thought he would be more mature than that but frankly he had enough of his father and his attitude towards Quincy's and Shinigami. If he had listened to his father the war would probably have gone a very different way. He had never seen Ryuuken so livid in his entire life which, in his eyes, made everything completely worth it. Ulquiorra had also not mentioned the loss of his hand or the stabbing, something Ishida was still rather grateful for.

"Oh that's great!" Tatsuki cried, "you're in love with he--" Ulquiorra's hand clapped over her mouth. Tatsuki cried something indignant but it was muffled by the hand on her lips. When she drew back her fist with clear intention Ulquiorra let his hand drop, "you're in love with her?"

"My feelings are inconsequential," he said cooly fixing Ishida with his gaze, "are you in love with her?" he repeated.

"Am I _what_?!" Ishida cried.

"It is a simple question," Ulquiorra said cooly, "I fail to see your confusion."

Failed to see his confusion.

Suddenly Ishida was hit with the desire to slam his head against the table they were sitting at. Ulquiorra and his socially-awkward moments. They were becoming less and less but the fact was that every so often Ulquiorra would do soemthing that was the equivalent of throwing up a big I'm-not-from-around-this-time-and-place sign. Was he in love with Orihime Inoue? Yes. But the fact was that he had been in love with her for a very very long time and it had become clear to him that the chances of her reciprocating such feelings were nonexistent. While he mourned for what could have been, the only thing that he could see being worse would be if she went with him out of pity. Besides, the fact was that while he and the rest of the world might have been in love with Orihime Inoue, the girl herself was only in love with one person.

That person happened to be the socially awkward former Espada sitting across from him.

"Listen," Tatsuki said, "whose in love with her is only half the thing," she looked at the Espada, "who she's in love with is also kinda important."

"Telling such a thing is impossible," Ulquiorra replied instantly, "she exhibits signs of caring for every person she meets."

Tatsuki groaned and wondered why she was in such a position. Across the table Ishida locked eyes with her. With a sigh they both looked at Ulquiorra.

"She's in love with you," they said at the same time.

Well fair was fair and when the poor former Espada choked on what he was drinking in the same fashion the two of them burst out laughing at his shocked expression. Sometimes it was rather easy to think that Ulquiorra was just cold and awkward, not that there was a completely justifiable explanation for such behavior. The two of them laughed as Tatsuki gave the poor former Espada a good, solid hit between the shoulder blades to help him clear his lungs faster. Finally, spitting the swear words no-one had the slightest idea where he had picked up, Ulquiorra looked at Ishida.

"She _what_?" he demanded looking between the two of them.

"Oh, yeah, she's in love with you," Tatsuki said, her tone no nonsense, "and from your very sweet gesture, I'm guessin your in love with her."

"But--"

"Ulquiorra," Ishida sighed pushing his glasses up on his nose, "if there was only one person in a relationship--"

"You wouldn't be able to make half-emo babies," Tatsuki said with a wicked smile which sent the poor men reeling once more, "what? You think they--"

"I would prefer _not_ to think of such things," Ishida cut her off.

Ulquiorra still seemed very confused about the situation, confused and more than a little afraid of the prospect of Orihime Inoue being in love with him. Tatsuki knew instantly he was thinking of Stockholm Syndrome and that this was definitely not it. In fact, if Ulquiorra had been like he was back when he kidnapped her Tatsuki knew her friend would slap him instead of wanting to kiss him. Now though Orihime definitely wanted to do that latter of the two things. And Tatsuki had a plan. Mind full of ideas she turned to Ulquiorra but the poor Espada seemed rather anguished. She looked over at Ishida who seemed just as collected as he always did. It hit her then what the Espada was trying to do.

He was seeing if Orihime was _Ishida's_ woman.

Not one to be touched by things easily, Tatsuki none the less found the gesture rather endearing. Poor Ishida, he cared a lot for Orihime and she for him but they cared in two very different ways--and they probably never would be in love with each other. But Ulquiorra--that was a different story. She looked over at Ishida, glaring until the Quincy locked eyes with her. He seemed just as confused as Ulquiorra about what was going on. Swearing everlasting agony on the male race, Tatsuki got to her feet and walked over to Ishida, grabbing him and dragging him away from the still confused ex Espada.

"He's asking your permission you idiot," she barked at him.

"He's _what_?!" Ishida seemed stunned.

"Men! I swear, I don't know why we bother with you sometimes--he wants your permission to date Orihime."

"B-but I have no say in Inoue's choices," Ishida said

"I know you don't and neither do I but _he_ thinks you're in love with her and he doesn't want to do something to mess up your friendship."

"He _cut_ my hand off," Ishida hissed.

"that was before you were friends. And besides, you've been in love with Inoue almost as long as you had that hand," she said, ignoring it when he opened his mouth to contradict her, "would you go over there and tell him its okay to date Inoue?" Ishida turned to go but she yanked him back, "hold on--are we gonna have to talk him through dating?"

Ishida looked at her. Tatsuki's eyes widened. Its seemed that being a Hollow took one away from the world and no matter how young Ulquiorra was when he died, existing in Hueco Mundo for an extended period of time had resulted in a sever case of culture shock. Fortunately the group of them was more than capable of brining Ulquiorra up to speed on most matters but sometimes there were slip ups. Getting Ulquiorra to wear modern cloths was next to impossible. Finally they got him into jeans and normal cloths outside of school but he disliked having to deal with having so many options instead of just one uniform. Other things such as how things were also difficult to teach him such as about ipods and trains and other things they all thought were modern. Apparently Ulquiorra had not been exposed to any of that. Of all the Vizards, Lisa definitely had the most fun teaching him about new kinds of porn but Love informing Ulquiorra what modern TV was was a close second.

"We'll get the Vizards to do it," she said.

"Are you insane?" Ishida questioned, "the _Vizards_? You want the Vizards to give Ulquiorra Schiffer--who _still_ has trouble with sarcasm--to take dating advice from the single most dysfunctional group of people we know?"

"Okay that was a bad idea. Maybe we should worry about him actually doing something after you give him permission."

"This is ridiculous," Ishida turned and walked back to the patiently waiting former Espada, "are _you_ in love with Orihime Inoue?"

Thankfully Ulquiorra was not drinking anything at the moment. Instead he fixed Ishida with his gaze and gave a curt nod, as thought accepting some sort of order or mission. Inwardly Ishida wondered if banging his head against the wall would raise too many eyebrows. Dealing with unemotional people was a difficult thing. Well, unemotional might be an incorrect term. Ulquiorra was emotional, he was just unable to figure out what those emotions were half the time.

"Then you should be with her," he said.

"But--"

"I might be in love with her but she's in love with you. People want the people they care about to be happy, even if their happiness is not with them."

"But--"

"Listen," Tatsuki grabbed his shoulder, ignoring how instinctively flinched at the touch, "she loves you, you love her and not you have no excuse not to do it. Look, I'll even wave my threatening speech where I tell you I'll break every bone in your body starting with a boneless appendage between your femurs."

"Is she serious?" Ulquiorra looked at Ishida.

"Yes."

"Which is why, if you don't want me to start you'll go over to her house. Bring her soup or something, do that whole 'eat woman' thing you do," she said.

"Its the middle of the day," he said.

"You're way to old to be in High School anyway! Go to her."

Ulquiorra looked between the two of them but when Tatsuki cracked her knuckles he knew it was probably time to go before he and Tatsuki wound up getting suspended...again. Given how often everyone went running off he knew the school was rather loose on those rules. The fighting thing however, they were rather uptight on. He walked out of the school without any problem and headed down the familiar path to Orihime's house. He walked over to the familiar apartment building and wondered if this was truly a good idea. He looked at he names on the apartment building and found the buzzer labeled Inoue. He pressed the buzzer and waited.

"Hello?" he heard her distorted, cold ridden voice, "whose there."

"Ulquiorra," he said, his name sounding odd. The door buzzed and he walked up into her top floor apartment. The door was slightly ajar, "woman, why is the door opened?" he asked.

"I knew you'd be coming," her voice came from behind a door.

Orihime's apartment was bright and cheerful, just as bright as the girl herself. A girl who was currently hiding from him. He frowned and walked over to where the words had come from. He looked around, feeling like he was playing a game of hide and seek or Marco Polo, one of those games the others were always talking about. He frowned and knocked on the bathroom door.

"Go away!" her voice came through the wood.

"I came to make sure you were alright," he said.

"I'm fine! You can go away now," she said, her voice high and still stuffed up with a cold.

"Woman you're being ridiculous," he said, "you are not fine and hiding in a bathroom is not going to solve anything. Come outside."

"B-but--"

"Now," he said in a voice she had never disobeyed before.

Meekly the door knob turned and the door opened. Orihime stood there, her eyes on the ground. Her hair was pulled into a messy ponytail and the tip of her nose was bright red from blowing it constantly. She was dressed in a pair of fuzzy pajamas that were pale blue and decorated with bright white snowflakes. Her hairpins were not in her hair but on her feet were a pair of bright pink socks decorated with chappy bunnies that he had a feeling were Rukia's fault. She looked like she had a cold--that or she had been cross bred with a stuffed animal. He frowned and reached out, pressing the back of his hand to her forehead. Her violet grey eyes shot upwards as he felt her forehead.

"You have a fever."

"I know," she said.

"Why were you hiding in the bathroom?"

"I look horrible," she mumbled.

"You're sick," he said, "your appearance does not matter," he frowned, "you should not be alone right now."

"I've been sick before," she said raising her chin fractionally before she shuffled out of the bathroom, "my healing doesn't work on me," she said. He nodded, already knowing it, "wh-why'd you come?" she asked looking over at him.

"I--" he stopped, not sure what he was supposed to say to that, "get in bed."

"Huh? Why?" she asked.

"Because you're sick," he said, "I will take care of you," her eyes widened, "go to bed."

"You don't have to do that," she said crossing her arms.

She looked at him, feeling odd. She was sick and the idea of Ulquiorra seeing her dressed in fuzzy pajamas was not something she was sure she was ready to deal with. He had become their friend, another member of their crazy group. He was no worse really than any of their other 'old' friends when they came to the modern world. But when Orihime got sick and miserable she often thought too much about things and lately all she could think about was Ulquiorra. Ever since her brother died she had taken care of herself when she had colds. She was used to it. But in Las Noches she had gotten used to someone helping her, someone making sure she was not alone. But that someone was no longer responsible for her. There were no orders to bind them together anymore and despite her best intentions, she missed Ulquiorra's constant presence. He was still there a lot but now everyone was there too. She was happy to be with her friends, to be home, but she was also happy that he was there.

She still didn't want him to see her looking this bad though.

"I know," he said, pulling her into the present, "get in bed," he repeated, his voice a fraction softer.

Orihime stared at him. Ulquiorra met her gaze easily. Orihime felt her lips curve into a faint smile as she looked at him. She nodded and shuffled off to get in bed. Ulquiorra watched her go before turning back to her kitchen. He was _not_ optimistic about being able to make her anything that did not involve Red Bean Paste.

"Hey Ulquiorra?" he turned his head, "how were Tatsuki and Ishida?" Ulquiorra felt his eyes widen, "they've been acting weird lately."

Ulquiorra looked at the hallway and then at the kitchen.

She had no idea.


	25. Oxide

Falling down the rabbit hole was easy, it was climbing back up that was hard.

_Welcome back, Ulquiorra Cipher._

_Very_ hard.

WIth features smooth only by virtue of practice, Ulquiorra surveyed the damage around him. Rubble, dust and sand was everywhere. A good section of Las Noches was destroyed. Aizen would not be pleased when he returned and found his palace in shambles. Somewhere to his right and far far down he could hear Yammy give a triumphant bellow of joy, probably sensing the loophole being enacted. Ulquiorra looked at the bone white hands poking out from his immaculate uniform with an odd feeling coiling in his stomach. He had been killed, of that he was sure, but true death should have negated the strange effects. His ashes should not have reformed as they did. In fact, he was quite sure that some of them had remained away.

Why else would his chest hurt so badly?

It ached, fiercely, painfully like someone had burned him. Reformation usually included a degree of pain but nothing like this. This hurt worse than he could imagine. Angrily he reached up and rubbed his hand over the fabric of his hollow hole, as if he could sooth away the painful sensation. Before his hand could reach it though another sound met his ears. A sound he had not heard in some time but was more than accustom too. He turned his head towards it, though there was really no need and felt the anger evaporate as the burning in his chest seemed to double.

His opponent was standing there, Ichigo Kurosaki looking somehow both the triumphant warrior and the broken hero. Torn and bloody, his sword was plunged into the earth next to him as he stared at the two figures. Ishida had been healed, that much was clear, but he was still bloody and obviously favoring the hand Ulquiorra remembered severing. Both of them however were concerned with the source of the sound. She was there, on her knees with her hands buried in her face as her shoulders shook with sobs. If they had tried to offer her comfort she had swatted them away, a strange thing considering how much she seemed to rely on them.

Yet there she was, alone.

Bruised and broken and beautiful and so very alone.

Something in Ulquiorra seemed to _twist_ and he felt surprise inside him. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, but they itched to touch her, to grasp the hand that had reached for him---that _he_ had reached for. But that would never do. He had to protect Las Noches, that was the only thing to do. Whatever was making that woman cry, she was going to have to deal with on her own. He had been foolish enough for one day, going to his second release so easily and screaming at Ichigo Kurosaki. Irritably he felt his Hole ache again, though the sensation was not as painful as before, more of an ache then the sharp pain. Ignoring it he tore his eyes away from the sight of her.

The sound of a shriek alerted him to the battle going on far below.

"Rukia! Damn it we have to go help the others."

He raised his head to see Ichigo look from Orihime to Uryuu. The Quincy looked at her and then at him before nodding.

"But--"

There was another, more masculine cry and the sound of someone's Spiritual Pressure fluctuating wildly.

"Stay with Inoue!" came the shout before Ichigo vanished to be heroic.

Uryuu raced over to the edge of the roof and looked anxiously over. Ulquiorra's eyes followed him. Suddenly there was a painfully loud echo as the roof lurched under his feet. A sharp burst of Spiritual Power made it clear that Ichigo was taking out whatever he was feeling on Yammy. The sound of an explosion echoed moments before there was a bright flash of Yammy's cero. Then he was obviously slammed into the wall. The unstable wall would have been hard pressed to withstand Yammy's weight if it had been whole. As it was, there was no chance and there was a violent tremble to the ground under his feet before spiderweb cracks began to dance over the section of the floor.

The outer sections including the one Uryuu was standing on were the first to go. Orihime's head flew up as she turned to see the wall begin to crack before it crumbled down. Instantly she was on her feet, one hand extended towards the Quincy. Her lips parted and though the words were sob-filled, they were strong as she shouted.

"Santen Kesshun! I reject!" the gold light shot forward, easily sliding under the Quincy as the floor caved in around him.

Unfortunately the floor kept caving in.

"Inoue!" Uryuu cried as the ground dropped away.

Stupid _stupid_ woman. The thought came viciously and unwelcomely to his mind. Throwing herself in harms way, always trying to save everyone with no care to herself. Didn't _anyone_ let her know that if she died everyone else would as well? She had gone to Soul Society and would have probably gone to Hueco Mundo with her friends yet she expected them to abandon her. He knew he could live for ever and never really understand someone like her. How foolish could she really be? Reaching for him after everything he had done to her--even now her hand was extended.

Always reaching, never actually catching what she was grabbing at.

Would she ever reach what she was reaching for?

Would she know when she had?

It took one step to get to the edge of the roof that remained, one simple motion to throw out his wrist and grab her hand. Simple motions and yet they seemed to take longer then anything he had done. But they happened and his hand grabbed hers.

Barely, but it did.

For a moment they were frozen. Her eyes were wide with shock, her fingers barely holding onto his. His own eyes were wide with the surprise that echoed through him. He had _grabbed_ her, he hadn't stayed hidden and let her fall into eternity. He had grabbed her. Her fingers began to slip and they seemed to move at the same time, his other hand reaching down as she swung her hand up. This time they grabbed each other's wrist, moments before their weak grip separated once more. Ulquiorra glanced down to make sure his section of the roof was stable before he pulled her up onto the roof.

The moment her knees touched the ground she snatched her hand back, her palms flying up to cover her mouth as she stared at him with unabashed shock. Sitting back on his heels, Ulquiorra fought the urge to squirm under her inspection. She was staring at him as if she had never seen him before, as if some monumental change had occurred. Ulquiorra would have attributed it to her seeing his first and second release states if not for the fact that her eyes kept going from his head to his chest and back again. He refused to move his hands from where they rested on his knees, already half realizing what she was gaping at.

He could feel the wind in his hair, in _all_ of his hair.

"U-Ulqu--" her lips seemed to stumble on his name, as if saying it would be breaking some sort of rule, "_Ulquiorra,_" she finally got his name out before she threw herself forward, her arms wrapping tightly around his chest.

Her face was buried against his chest, her tears soaking the fabric. For the life of him he could not bring himself to push her away--not that he thought it would be possible to separate himself from her death grip. Instead he hesitantly raised his hands to her shoulders, inwardly surprised at how familiar the gesture felt. His fingers pressed into the skin exposed by her torn dress. But even as he held her he felt something strange.

_Your mission is to defend Las Noches_

His hands dropped from her shoulders. Slowly she pulled back, raising her tear soaked face to him, confusion flitting across her eyes. One of his hands dropped to his side, feeling the familiar wrappings of his blade. Could he even still wield it?

_Defend Las Noches at all costs_

Slowly he got to his feet. She remained on her knees looking up at him, the confusion ebbing away as his intentions became clear. Reaching down she pushed herself to her feet as he turned towards the shattered edge of the roof, looking past that as Yammy fought the others. If they kept that up, the palace would be destroyed. He moved forward another step towards the edge of the roof before her hand caught his.

"Ulquiorra--" her voice was shaky but stronger then when she had desperately sobbed his name, "what are you going to--"

"My duty," he cut her off, his voice surprisingly cool to both their ears.

Her lip caught between her teeth as she looked at him. He found himself unable to look from her gaze as she stared at him, even as her tears continued to slip down her cheeks. Slowly one of her hands came out and reached for him. Despite the fact they had hugged moments ago, he still wanted to swat her away. He did not. Her fingers came to his chest and, very lightly, rested against the smooth, unblemished skin where his Hole had once been.

The pain, the odd feelings, all of it made sense in that one gesture.

The skin was smooth, it was whole. _He_ was whole. Confused, yes, but whole none the less. No broken parts that had marked him a Hollow. All because of the woman standing in front of him with her hand on his chest and smile on her lips even as tears slipped down her cheeks.

"I--I have to go," she whispered looking over at Uryuu.

He nodded, knowing that she was right. Her hands suddenly slid around him as once more she hugged him tightly, her cheek brushing against his. He stepped back as soon as he found the strength, unable to linger in her embrace. Turning he jumped off the edge of the roof, throwing himself into _Sonido_ and appearing next to Yammy.

"Finally decided to join the--"

"That's enough," Ulquiorra said coldly, taking some satisfaction in the shock on the faces of their adversaries, "take this elsewhere where more of Las Noches will not be destroyed," he ordered them all, sparing none more then a passing glance.

Turning on his heel he used Sonido to move away back into the confines of Las Noches. Only then when he was in the dark and cool of the palace did he lean against the wall and try to calm his pounding heart.

_Defend Las Noches_ he would perform the task entrusted to him.

_I-I have to go _he would carry out Aizen's orders.

_But I don't want to leave you. _

No matter what.

* * *

**Quick little thing that just came into my head and I scribbled down, just to get back into the Ulquihime mindset.**

**Okay so I'm going to be continuing the storyline with the most recent chapter called _Midnight_ and also a few others. As always if you want to see a particular plot, lemme know!**


	26. Aimsworth

**Alright so this could be seen as a followup to "Dead Man's Hand" because the constant request I've gotten is to have more of Ulquiorra in that lovely world where he is stuck in H.S. with the rest of the gang.**

**What? It could happen!  
**

**Read the volume 40 poem!**

* * *

"So you gonna ask her out?"

Ulquiorra raised an eyebrow and looked over at Tatsuki. The martial arts champion glared furiously at his blank look. Ulquiorra ducked his head and focused on his food, trying to fight the disgusting desire to blush like the schoolboy he was only _pretending_ to be. Since a week ago when Orihime had been sick and the subject of Orihime's feelings come out into the open, Tatsuki had refused to let up on the subject. Ulquiorra was fairly certain that somewhere deep inside Tatsuki had their best interests at heart. Unfortunately it was somewhere deep inside and Ulquiorra had a feeling that it would manifest itself as a solid punch to his face very shortly. If he went through another gigai before the year was out he had a feeling Urahara was going to join in on the punching party.

"Come _on_ Ulquiorra, she likes you, you like her, what's the problem?"

"There is no problem," he said, his voice steady.

"Oh you're not going to go into the whole 'but-I-kidnapped-her-and-the-fact-I-helped-save-the-world-is-completely-irrelivant'-thing again are you? I thought we were over that!"

Ulquiorra set down his chopsticks and glared icily at her. Tatsuki returned his glare, only much more heated. He did not appreciate everything being so simplified, especially not considering the fact his relationship with Orihime had started with him kidnapping her for a man trying to take over the world. Tatsuki saw the world rather black and white, somedays Ulquiorra was grateful he was in the 'good' side and even more when Ichigo was in the 'bad' side. But sometimes everything was far too simple for her. This wasn't something anyone could fix with their fists, though Ulquiorra wished to God it was.

"Hi guys!"

Wished really _really_ hard it was.

They both looked over to see Orihime wave happily and walk towards them, the hem of her skirt bouncing merrily with the motion. Tatsuki grinned and waved her over but as was happening more and more, Ulquiorra found all he could do was try to make sure his pounding heart was inaudible to the rest of the world. Orihime stopped a the edge of their table and sat down next to Tatsuki, placing her book bag next to her and riffling through it until she came up with the latest strange concoction she had invented. Inwardly Ulquiorra winced at the disgusting food, remembering when she had complained about the healthy stuff he had made sure she ate. He didn't know what was in the bento and not for the first time with the sunset haired woman he realized that sometimes it was better _not_ to understand certain things.

"Are you okay Ulquiorra?" she asked looking over at him.

"Fine," he said quickly, though instead of being a cool monotone his voice was icy and sharp.

"O-okay," she said, her smile faltering for a moment before brightening again, "Tatsuki would you do me a huge favor?" she asked.

"Does it involve hitting someone?" came the inquiry.

"No, just picking up homework. Captain Unohana wants my help with something," she said beginning to eat her food.

"Sure," Tatsuki said with a shrug.

"What does Unohana want with you?" Ulquiorra demanded instantly, his green eyes flashing.

"She didn't say," Orihime said, "but I told her I'd be happy to help. Besides," she said with a flick of her hair, "whatever it is its gotta be serious if she wants my help."

"Yeah," Tatsuki broke in, "its _Soul Society, _I'm sure everything'll be fine," she arched an eyebrow, "are you _worried_?"

If looks could kill Ulquiorra's would have. Tatsuki gave a smile, that same smile she gave when she won a tournament. Orihime's eyes went back and forth between the two of them, not exactly sure what was going on. It seemed like the world was hesitating, waiting for something. All Orihime was sure of was that it was going to involve Ulquiorra's emotional stuntedness and Tatsuki's penchant for violence. She got her shield ready as the two continued to look at each other, glaring across the table, one with obvious anger and one with obvious satisfaction. Orihime went to lay down her chopsticks as the two of them suddenly jumped to their feet.

"You're being completely ridiculous--"

"Hardly. The one being foolish here is you--"

"Foolish?! Yeah, right. At least I'm not being an emotionally stunted--"

"Ichigo Kurosaki still believes you're mad at him--"

"So what?! Maybe i am! Maybe I never want to see that orange haired idiot--"

"Perhaps then you could explain what is written on the back of your notebook--"

"You sharp eyed jerk! You said you'd never say anything--"

"You said I would never say anything I never made any sort of--"

"Guys!" Orihime shouted, breaking into their arguing, "what's going on?!"

"Ask your green eyed 'friend'!" Tatsuki challenged, her eyes glinting.

Orihime looked at him. Ulquiorra looked at her, adrenaline coursing through him. How it was possible for two women to be so infuriating, he had no idea, nor did he particularly care. Orihime's eyebrows drew together in confusion as she looked at him and then at her best friend, worry bright in her eyes. She continued to look between the two of them, obviously not seeing what was so obvious to the two of them.

"Nothing," Ulquiorra said snatching his things, "have a safe journey," he said turning and walking away.

"Wait! Ulquiorra--" Orihime took a step forward before Tatsuki's hand grabbed her wrist, "Tatsuki what happened?" she questioned, worry still clear in her eyes.

"Nothing," Tatsuki said, echoing Ulquiorra's monosyllabic farewell, "come on," she said darkly, "lets get you to Urahara's shop."

**

* * *

**

Being impaled was unpleasant.

It was his own fault really. He had decided to help the others and went on a Hollow fighting mission even though he was well aware he was distracted. And, as was prone to happen when he was distracted, he got his ass kicked. Or, in this case, got a pair of sharp horns slammed through his gut. It was not pleasant by any stretch of the imagination, in fact, it was highly unpleasant. He should have stayed home and continued to do what he had been doing for the past day or so since that awful lunch but Urahara had informed him that despite posing as a teenager he was anything but and if he spent one more second sulking he was going to find himself on a one way trip to somewhere very unpleasant.

It wasn't even a _good _reason to be distracted. Orihime might have feelings for him but she was probably confused or trying not to admit she loved someone else. They were friends, friends but their past still tainted them. She was much _much_ more resilient than he had considered before but at nights sometimes he still woke up in a cold sweat, one hand groping blindly for his sword. But what had really bothered him was the nagging feeling that Tatsuki was, once again, right: he was being an idiot and he _should_ ask Orihime out.

Who would have thought Las Noches would have been easier to deal with then High School?

Finally finishing his enemy, the Hollow in front of him vanished with a hiss as the battle finally _finally_ ended. WIth a choked gasp Ulquiorra dropped to his knee, the lance he had been wielding dissolved throwing him onto his forearms. He felt the wet, hot blood that had been soaking the fabric of his garment steadily hit the ground with a sound that was mockingly like a downpour. The Arrancar vanished with a hiss as it disintegrated, the ash clogging his nostrils. His arms only held his weight for a fraction longer before they buckled and he dropped to the ground, his cheek colliding with the roof.

"Man Ulquiorra, never thought we'd find a Holl--"

Whatever Ichigo was remarking was lost as an odd sort of ringing began to fill his ears. Dimly he thought he heard him shout his name but it could have just as easily been his imagination. He didn't even have the strength to roll onto his back, the only way he knew he had been rolled was because his failing vision was suddenly bright with thousands of stars. This time he was sure he heard someone shout his name, but it seemed to come from some impossibly long distance. He didn't care anyway, he knew his own name just fine. What mattered was what they said afterwards.

"Get Inoue!"

He dimly heard the sound of tearing fabric before something was pressed tightly to his chest. They were foolish though. Inoue was in Soul Society helping Unohana with something. They were all alone, the Quincy, the Substitute Shinigami and him, the cast off Arrancar. Pity none of them knew how to heal with any effectiveness. The world began to spin, slowly and then with nauseating speed. He thought he would be sick but the substance that filled his mouth was not bile or vomit, it was blood. He could taste the odd, coppery tang even as his lips parted and it slipped down the side of his mouth.

"We gotta get him to Urahara," was the next thing he heard as his vision finally blackened.

"I'll take him there--you go get Shinji."

He supposed if he had been closer to consciousness he would have been ashamed and it would have hurt more when Ichigo hefted him onto his back. As it was it was supremely fortunate he had lost his grip on his released state and reverted back to his ordinary Hollow one. Ichigo's hands were slick with his blood and Ulquiorra could feel more if it seep into the younger man's robes. He fought to feel uncomfortable or embarrassed or _anything_ but it was like trying to hold in open fingers and just as easily, the world trickled away.

**

* * *

**

"Your help has been invaluable."

Orihime smiled at the Fourth Division Captain. She had always liked Retsu Unohana,admired her as well. When she had contacted Orihime about a sick Shinigami the young woman was more then happy to go to her. They had a few days off from school anyway for a national holiday and though she would have loved to spend it with her friends, she had gone to Soul Society. She was confident that the others would be fine and now that the Shinigami was healed, all that was left to do was go home a day early.

She was secretly thankful of the fact. Tatsuki and Ulquiorra's strange behavior had been a knot in the back of her head for her entire trip. She couldn't pin point when or why it had started but Tatsuki and he had been arguing so much lately and they would never tell her why. Orihime was beginning to think that maybe the two of them liked each other.

Which would, of course, be terrible considering _she_ was hopelessly in love with the green eyed former Espada.

She had no idea when it happened either. She had started to develop a soft spot for him, instead of hating his presence she had found herself enjoying it. And then, one day--one perfectly _ordinary_ day--she had been struck with the realization that she didn't just enjoy his company, she craved it. She _wanted_ to be beside him. Despite everything they had gone through, or maybe because of it, she had fallen head over heels for him. She had a feeling Ishida knew and probably Tatsuki as well but the rest of them, they would all go crazy if they thought she was in love with him. Especially Ulquiorra himself who, she knew, still felt guilty over what had happened between them.

Truthfully she still struggled with it sometimes as well. Even if Aizen had ordered it, a part of her would always associate that horrible day and the events that followed with him. But the more time she spent with him the more she felt that because that was how they had started out, they had come so incredibly far since. Of course now they were at a standstill, both knowing something had to change but both unwilling to admit it, or worse, to be the change. But if he liked Tatsuki--

"Orihime?" Unohana pulled her back to the present gently.

"Oh, I'm sorry I drifted off," she said feeling her cheeks heat up, "it was my pleasure to help," she said taking a sip of the tea Unohana had offered her, "I'm just glad I was able too."

"You have always been far more capable then you think," Unohana gentle told her. Orihime nodded, knowing she was right. It was always her first instinct to doubt herself, "come in," Unohana said quietly, though Orihime had not heard anyone at the door.

It opened none the less to reveal a sweat soaked Renji Abarai. Orihime turned around, surprise on her face. She had breakfast with him this morning and he had been off to spar with Byakuya Kuchiki. He must have come from the fight given how he looked. But the gleam in his eyes, the fear and desperation, it could only mean that _something_ was wrong. Instantly she set the tea cup down and pushed herself to her feet.

"Renji what--"

"You gotta go to the transient world," he panted out.

"What happened?" she demanded, trying not to fall victim to the icy feeling that seemed to have replaced her insides.

"There was an attack--" the red haired man began, "we have to get you to Urahara's shop."

"Oh no," she said, her voice breathless to her ears but the ashen look on Renji's face only made her more certain who was hurt, "Ulquiorra!"

The journey back seemed impossibly long. She had never run that fast through the space between worlds. Even though they sent Rukia and Renji to escort her she ran faster then either of them could manage, throwing herself into the underground training space in Urahara's shop where the other gate was located. The moment her feet touched the hardened earth she kept running, racing to the ladder and throwing herself at the rungs, climbing them faster then she thought the sandals she wore would have allowed. Two frantic pounds at the trap door had it slid open as she jumped out and onto the wooden floor of the shop, her chest heaving and sweat stark on her forehead.

"Where is he?!" she cried, looking desperately at Urahara.

"He's this way, Tessai's got him in a kido barrier," the unusually somber shopkeeper told her, walking towards the room in the back of the shop. Orihime pushed past him, giving no thought to the rudeness of the situation and reached for the door, "Orihime--" Urahara began.

"Urahara don't!" Shinji said sharply but the door was already slid open.

Orihime gasped, unable to even scream at the sight before her. Was this what Ichigo had looked like after that first confrontation with Byakuya? If so she was glad that Rukia had been a world away, that she hadn't seen someone she loved in such a state. They must have kept him in his gigai as a precaution but his lack of a helmet was the only way she was able to tell. His skin was so pale it might as well have been bone white. Sweat was stark on his face as his fingers weakly clutched the sheet that covered his waist. Bandages were wrapped around his torso but it seemed almost pointless. He could regenerate, sure, but she knew the limits of that and when so much of the damage was internal--well there was nothing his power could do.

Nothing.

"Oh," the words from her mouth seemed distant and hopeless and impossibly soft. She felt numb, like the world was a million miles away.

Not just numb.

Helpless.

Tears threatened the corners of her eyes as she looked at him and then at Shinji Hirako who was sitting there, unusually somber and finally at Tessai whose brow was knit with concentration.

"W-where are the others?" her voice came, still numb and distant.

"Patrolling," he said, "before they got him inside he lost his grip on his power. Hollow's swarmed the area."

"You have to get rid of the barrier," she said her voice still dull, "it'll be harder because he's a Hollow."

"Inoue I don't--" the former Captain of the Kido Corps began.

"Do what she says," Urahara said, "it's the only way."

"Alright," Tessai said finally, "but he might react."

Orihime bit her lip and inched closer as Tessai began to withdraw the barrier around Ulquiorra. As he did, the most horrible sound came from his lips. It took Orihime a moment to recognize the wet, raspy sound was Ulquiorra struggling to breath, to survive. He must have sensed the barrier's removal because his eyes fluttered, just enough for her to see the barest edge of emerald. His eyes were unfocused, clouded with fever and pain but it didn't stop her from grabbing his hand. His skin was hot enough to burn her fingers but she tightened her grip, threading her fingers through his own.

It was a habit, ever since he had reached for her and she for him before he had been blown away. On the rare occasions when she touched his hand she always slid her fingers through his, as if she was making up for the one time they had not been able to touch. This was no different. She slid her fingers through his, tightly gripping the oddly human skin.

"_Woman_," his lips formed the name he had not called her since she demanded he call her by her real name.

"I'm here," she said, her voice almost desperately loud, "I'm here Ulquiorra," she tightened her fingers, "j-just hold--just hold on okay?" he gave the barest incline of his head, so small she almost missed it but somehow she didn't.

Though she had never healed someone with her hand inside the shield, the thought of letting go of his fingers was unfathomable. The grip that returned her tight one was feeble at best but it was there. She held his hand tightly as the golden glow covered him. The bandages and his giga made it impossible to see the healing but Orihime felt it. Slowly the fingers grasping hers cooled and tightened as deep inside damage was repaired. It was hard to heal him, as it was with all Hollows, but slowly she felt everything come back together. His features smoothed out as the healing continued before his green eyes opened fully, their sharpness still dull and tainted by the gold of her shield.

"Hi," Orihime whispered, her fingers still tight against his.

Ulquiorra looked up at her, not trusting his ability to speak. He had been healed before by her but never on such a wide scale. Her healing was strange. His own regeneration was painful but with Orihime it was as though his body had gone numb before slowly pins and needles took over as everything came back on line. It wasn't pleasant but it was a far cry from what he had been previously feeling. What he was most aware of was her fingers tightly interlaced with his. She seemed unwilling to let go of his hands and despite his inward frustration he was weak enough to be incredibly grateful for the feeling. She or the fairies seemed to know when to stop because soon the golden glow retreated, leaving him feeling in need of a bath for his gigai.

His eyes moved to their tightly clasped fingers and a warmth that had nothing to do with re-grown organs began to settle in his stomach. Slowly he moved himself into a sitting position, his hand sliding far too easily from her grasp. The relief was stark on everyone's faces, even on hers. But hers was unique in the sadness that also seemed to live in her eyes. He opened his mouth to ask what was wrong but she shoved herself to her feet before the words could leave his mouth.

"Sorry I--I have to go," she turned and ran out of the room as fast as her feet could take her.

Orihime ran as fast as she could. It was only through some terribly wonderful stroke of luck that he managed to keep her tears from falling until she had left the Urahara shop--and Ulquiorra Schiffer--far behind her.

**

* * *

**

"Your an idiot! You went into that fight distracted! Your so damn lucky you weren't killed! What the hell were you thinking?!"

Ulquiorra stood ramrod strait as Tatsuki hollered at him, the shattered remains of the ruler she broke over his head lay all around him. From the looks on Ichigo and Ishida's face, it was just Tatsuki's lovely way of expressing her affection for the more thickheaded and treasured of her friends. As he had figured out a very long time ago it was best when dealing with her to be quiet and still and let her finish. Abruptly and unexpectedly the girl dove forward and threw her arms around him, hugging him tightly. Ulquiorra's eyes widened before a sharp inhale drew their gaze to the front of the room.

Orihime stood in the door, her fingers gripping the handle of her carrying case in a white knuckle grip. Her eyes did not go between the two of them but rather remained locked on them as a pair. The hopelessness that Ulquiorra saw in her eyes was enough to break even the oldest of hearts. Still her lips tried for a smile and failed, her eyes filling with tears before she turned on her heel and ran from the room.

Ulquiorra was halfway towards the door before Tatsuki's arm caught him.

"Stop being an idiot," she said, her voice coming out almost like a plea.

Ulquiorra gave a curt nod before turning and running after her. He found her easily, having long since become accustom to finding Orihime, especially when she got in one of her strange moods. The courtyard was deserted and she was at their lunch table, sitting on the table with her feet dangling off the edge, her eyes staring at her knees. She wasn't crying, just staring looking quite hopeless. He walked over, knowing that she was aware of his presence but stopping just as they were perpendicular.

"I'm sorry," her voice was soft and embarrassed.

"For what?" he asked, truly confused.

"For running away," she said closing her eyes tightly as her cheeks began to stain pink, "I-I just can't--I can't--" her voice cracked.

"Orihime--" he began truly concerned at how she was acting.

"I can't do it again," she said keeping her eyes shut, "I can't watch my friends--do _that_ again."

Ulquiorra realized what she was saying. Ichigo and Rukia's relationship had been hard on her. He knew that she had been in love with Ichigo and that even if he cared deeply about her, he was in love with the black haired Shinigami. Orihime had put on a brave face but she had been hurt deeply by watching that. She must have thought that Ulquiorra and Tatsuki were together. How she had reached that conclusion from a hug, Ulquiorra had no idea. But she had inferred something that was not the case. And it hurt her, just as badly as Ichigo and Rukia's relationship had hurt her.

But she had been in _love_ with Ichigo.

Ulquiorra's eyes widened. People had told him, he had even imagined it once or twice but she had just come out and said it. Either that or she was in love with Tatsuki. He wasn't sure what to feel but guilt was high on his list. Once again, he had made her cry. He was always hurting her, always making her cry. How could she possibly expect a better outcome from a relationship? Ulquiorra stepped onto the bench before sitting next to her. stubbornly she turned her face away from him, though he could still see the dark pink on her cheeks.

"I'm sorry," she said again.

"There is no need to apologize," he said bluntly, "emotions are uncontrollable."

That, at the very least, made her smile, though the gesture was still laced with misery. Tears were still trickling down her cheeks though they were coming at a much slower pace. Bravely she reached up and swiped at them with her palms, fixing him with that unnerving stare that he knew only looked slightly vacant. Suddenly the urge to touch her, to hug her--to make sure she knew that the strange warmth in his stomach was _her_ fault was back, but it was worse than before. As if by its own accord his fingers moved forward on the wooden surface of the table as his weight shifted slightly towards her.

"I guess we've gotta go back," she murmured, "we'll get detention anyway though huh?"

He nodded, not trusting his voice. She blinked the last of the tears from her eyes and looked at him, her brow furrowing slightly in confusion.

"Are you okay?" she asked reaching out and touching his forehead, "your face is all flushed! Did I not heal you enough--" worry shone in her eyes, "I shouldn't have run out--" she wiped her cheeks again, "come on," her hand grabbed his wrist, "I can fix you up--" she stopped, looking at his wrist, "your heart's racing," she said before looking at him, "are you--" she began.

His hand slid around the back of her neck before his lips crashed onto hers. Orihime's eyes widened in shock at the uncharacteristically bold action. Ulquiorra had meant to do something else but the moment their lips touched he couldn't _think_. His heart seemed to beat so hard he thought it would leap out of his chest. For a moment she was frozen under his touch, stunned beyond movement. Then, within the space of a heartbeat she seemed to melt into the kiss, the hand that held his wrist so tightly slackening as her body turned fully into the kiss, her lips moving against his.

Slowly she drew back, her eyes remaining closed for a moment as Ulquiorra braced himself to be slapped again. Finally her eyes opened and she looked at him.

"Your not in love with her?" she whispered, her voice earnest and hopeful. He shook his head.

Suddenly her face broke into the brightest smile he had ever seen.

Ulquiorra's eyes widened. He had been so afraid of hurting her, of their _relationship_ hurting her that he had never thought that she would be happy. With him of all people. But she was smiling, not crying. Shock must have shown in his eyes because her smile only widened further before she scooted closer to him. He had no words to tell her what he was feeling, shock having silenced his tongue. Instead he grasped her hand, sliding his fingers easily through hers in the gesture that had come to symbolize so much. Orihime looked down at their joined fingers and then at his emerald eyes.

"Me too," she said softly before he leaned forward and kissed her once again.

Up in the classroom the group with their noses anxiously pressed to the window smiled at the scene in the courtyard. Of course it was Tatsuki who bent down and wrenched the window open, sticking her head out.

"Took you fucking long enough!" she hollered down at Ulquiorra before turning around, "Ishida! You owe me money!"

"Nonsense," the Quincy replied, "he has yet to ask her out."

* * *

**"Dead Man's Hand" and "Aimsworth" are poker hands. "Dead Man's Hand" is the hand of AA88 that Wild Bill Hickock supposedly played when he was shot at a poker game "Aimsworth" is a 62 that comes from Byron 'cowboy' wolford who, when playing bad cards, was asked what he was 'drawing' at. To which he replied that he wasn't drawing at anything, 'just aiming at another 2. Guess I'm aimsworth'. I picked poker hands because both felt like gambling situations. **


	27. Amagues

**WARNING: THIS IS A LEMON  
**

**YES an honest to gosh LEMON. **

**The sexual tension in my other Ulquihime stories was killing me and everything Ulquihime I'm doing right now has a kind of hopeful edge so I wanted to do something really dark and twisty.**

**And smexy.**

**So yeah, I wouldn't call this a PWP, but I'd say it comes pretty damn close. **

* * *

He comes to her in the dead of the night.

All the world's asleep but she's not. She's got too much to do to be asleep even though the only thing she's really got to do is wait. Sometimes she thinks she's spent her whole life waiting and so often none of them come. At least with this she'll know he's going to be there. So often he takes control of the situation, of _her_. His fingers are careful, scientific with their precision as he undoes her cloths and explores every inch of her but tonight she knows it will be different. She knows he has been waiting too and tonight she decides all the waiting will be over.

She hears him enter the room.

Its a courtesy. He could be there in a moment if he wished, they both know it but he lets her hear him, lets her become aware of his presence. There are rules to this game, steps to this dance and even if she knows she is going to break a few tonight, there are a few that she keeps. She lets him hold the illusion of control for a few steps, the heels of his shoes echoing in small, warm confines of the room like they had back in the large, unfeeling palace where they had spent so much time. His steps are precise and she's sure if you measured they'd all be the same length. He's still like a solider, even if his general is long dead. She lets him approach her, careful to lay still and quiet though they both are aware she is awake.

He is not, however, aware she is nude.

She sits up carefully, letting the blankets slip off her and pool around her waist. Her back is to him but she hears his step falter. He does not know what to make of the change in the game they play. She sits still, letting her hair settle, its length almost clear to the dimples that mark the end of her spine. It sways for a moment before settling. She knows what he sees with those eyes of his. He sees the creme of her skin and the damningly bright locks of her hair. He does not see the smile she feels tug at her lips before she quickly pushes it aside and raises herself onto her knees, drawing her legs so the blankets slide completely off her. He does not move as she turns around and kneels on the bed, her eyes locking with his.

Though he is standing and she is kneeling, though he is clothed and she is nude, they are aware of who has the power here. For a moment she is certain he will say no. He will back away and disappear like he does if she pushes him too hard too fast. He is new to these things, she reminds herself, but sometimes it is hard to be so careful and understanding. Especially when she remembers seeing no mercy or understanding from him. She has not quite forgiven him for what he did. Not yet. The first night he came to her she hit him until her hands bled before his lips clumsily found hers in the darkness. Moments later he was gone. Even now there are times when playing the part of subservient is too much for her. What she is now is a challenge, she is challenging him to prove her wrong while all the time expecting him to act as he always does. She consoles herself with that as he stands there, his green eyes watching her carefully, suspiciously.

And then his fingers reach for the fastening of his shirt.

He has accepted her challenge.

She watches as his fingers undo the fastenings with the precision he used on her, exposing his chest before he shrugs out of the fabric entirely. It hits the ground with a soft sound as she moves towards him.

His hand is on the small of her back, pulling her upwards as his lips all but attack hers. They are warm and hard and Orihime kisses him eagerly, her arms wrapping around his shoulders as his other hand settles on the base of her skull. His fingers twine with the weight and length of her hair and she knows however bright the color is on her skin it is a thousand times worse on his. She feels the smooth, hard planes of his chest against her own and, somewhere lower, she feels the soft fabric of his hakama press against her nudity. His tongue enters her mouth and her lips part eagerly to reciprocate the motion. She feels one of his legs bend, his knee resting on the bed as his thigh presses in between the legs she spreads easily to accommodate.

The heat that coils through her is exquisite. She does not feel safe in his arms, though she knows if anyone tried to hurt her he would kill them in a heartbeat. He is dangerous and she is aware of that in every press of marble against her skin. He is not human either, a fact she cannot forget when his helmet scrapes her shoulder or her lust fogged eyes see the way his bone white hand presses against her skin. But it is the danger of it that thrills her. The knowledge that the man who presses himself against could kill her without so much as a second thought. The knowledge that if they are discovered they will both probably be stripped of their powers and cast to the wind.

Her head spins when she feels him take her weight and push it off center, lowering her onto the bed. She feels the mattress dip under their combined weight and the old box spring squeaks in protest. He keeps their position the same, his leg in between her parted ones, but now his forearms press into the bed and suspend him over her as they continue to kiss. His lips do not leave hers. His marks are deep and permanent, he sees no reason to mark her skin as well. Not in any way that people could see. His fingers trace her collar bone, brushing the protrusion before trailing across the dip in the center. She cannot quite contain the gasp, her mouth parting wider as his fingers trickle down her chest. They do no linger at her breasts, though many men have told her with their eye what they would do to her if they could touch them. They pause just above her naval before dipping down into the circle. His movements become torturously slow though when they touch her abdomen.

This is learned. Before his fingers would be quick and precise but he has figured out what makes her tremble and gasp and moan. She realizes her mistake at playing the dominant one when his fingers deviate from the pathway he's drawn on her body. They become snake like, moving one way and then the other but always going lower. His leg that is still between her thighs moves back, just a little. Just enough to make her shiver in anticipation and arch her back. Her movements do nothing to incite speed. The journey of his fingers is still slow, agonizingly slow and if she had let herself think for a moment there was anything human about him this reminds her that there is not.

Not yet.

Not ever.

His fingers finally reached their destination and with a slight tilt of his head his mouth was on hers again. With the same agonizing slowness he drew his fingers down and it was all she could do not to cry out. His touch was firm, a promise of things to come. Slowly his fingers drew upwards through her. Like a bow being pulled, she arched her back, her lips tearing from his as her head pressed against the mattress, her body aching to move with him. His fingers repeated the stroke, torturing her further. He does not try to capture her lips again as he tortures her. its not so different from the other times and ways he has tortured her. He takes control and she is helpless to do anything to fight him.

The world ceases to exist as she cries out. It could be a prayer, a curse, his name--she does not know. All she knows is the arch of her spine and the raw, dangerous pleasure that throws any semblance of control she has to the gutter.

She feels him move and knows he is about to disrobe further. It takes all she has to move, bending one jellied knee and pushing with her other heel, flipping them so he is on his back and she is on top of him. She opens her eyes and looks down at him. He stares at her, shock written on his features. She knows that if she had let him continue he would have completed the act but she stops him. He is confused. He does not understand. She finds she does not care. He holds himself still as she looks down at him, feeling strangely vulnerable and powerful as she straddles his hips. She feels him against her, knows that he has enjoyed what he did to her in a way that cannot be taught, only felt. The physical evidence is all there. Bending forward, she presses her hands to her chest and lets her hair fall across his shoulder and face. Closing her eyes she kisses him deep and long, feeling him respond to the familiar gesture.

And then she changes it.

Her lips leave his, pressing a chaste kiss to his bottom lip before leaving his mouth entirely. She kisses his throat and delights in the surprised arch of his neck. She trails down the side without the helmet, drawing his earlobe into her mouth briefly before continuing down. She does not know if he can feel the touch but he reacts all the same. His hard skin tastes like earth and cool and dark--like all the things she is not and thrill jolts her. This is everything she is not, _he_ is everything she is not. Her lips follow the planes of his chest, teasingly stopping at the Four blazed on his chest and the small, barely visible scars that she does not know how they remain. She kisses down his chest to the ties of his hakama. She hears him inhale sharply and his entire body tenses but she pushes them down anyway. It is some instinct he has not to physically hurt her that saves her from being flipped but it is something else entirely that keeps him still as she pushes the damn things down as far as they will go.

As she takes him into her mouth and hears him gasp and feels him tremble she realizes that their positions have been reversed. He is now the captive and she is the one who holds the control. She is torturing him and even that thought is no enough to keep her from doing it. The power that rushes through her only worsens the heat that pulses through her. She tortures him slowly, with movements that are almost gentle. It is that gentleness, that reminder that _she_ is human and he is not that throws him close to the edge. She can feel it as his hips move, impulsively, with the unfamiliar sensation, his control dangerously close to snapping. She is far crueler when she pulls back before granting him any sort of release. It is yet another thing they oppose each other with.

His capacity for cruelty has always been obvious.

Hers never has.

He's on her in an instant, even with the effects of what she has made him feel still obvious on his body. His hands trap her wrists by her head but she is having none of it and pushes herself up, pressing their chests together and kissing him hungrily. His fingers tighten before they slacken and it is all she needs to sit up fully on her knees, straddling him but it is his motion that brings them together. She remembers back when she had thought her first time with a man would be special. That he would love her and she would love him and there would be promises of marriage and love and things that went along with sex. But as he holds her while she trembles with the feeling of him buried inside her, she knows that that kind of life is not for her. Not anymore. He waits for her and it is all the kindness she will get from him. She has challenged him and he responds.

The first motion is enough to chase the breath from her lugs as only his arms around her keep her steady. He is warm but not as warm as a person would be. Not as hot as she feels. He sets the pace and she matches, the game turning into a complex dance. Now it is not about torturing each other, it is about the challenge and the challenge met. Her thoughts become jumbled and tangled, hardly worthy to be called thoughts at all as sounds escape from her lips that she does not recognize. The pressure that builds now is excruciating and delicious. It is the endgame and if she could have it her way, it would never end. But it does as the world explodes until nothing matters but the feeling that takes over every facet of her being.

The moment afterwards they hold each other more out of compulsion than any shared feeling of warmth. He moves first but she is the one who untangles her limbs. She gives no thought for modesty as she gets up. He's seen her nude before under far less pleasant circumstances. Sweat dampens her skin and the smell of sex clings to her. She feels warmer than she has in some time as she stands and walks the small distance to the window set into the wall. She presses her hand to the wall and looks out at the darkened world spread out before her, lit only by what has been made by man. She hears him slide on his cloths but there is no shame to his movements. He does not think they have done anything wrong, no more than she does. By the time he stands next to her he is perfectly composed and once more she is the one who is naked. Emotionally, physically--she has come to accept that she will always be naked in front of him. In a strange way she even finds it comforting.

"You should go," she says finally, breaking the silence, "he'll be back soon and if he finds you here--"

He is behind her before she can finish the sentence. Her body tenses at the unfamiliar action before it sags as her spine presses against his chest. She allows herself this weakness as her head rests against his shoulder, face turned towards his neck. He says nothing as one hand traces the curve of her shoulder, his other sliding around her waist and trapping her arm to her side. It is a possessive move, made more so when he presses his mouth to her bare shoulder. Given what they just did the heat that spikes through her when he bites her makes her head spin. Her fingers grab his hakama as her head reels.

"You are mine."

He draws back leaving the indent in her skin and the breeze at her back. She staggers back, her body twisting to find nothing but air there. They are the first words he has spoken all night but his voice is as cool and indifferent as she remembers. A few more halting steps take her to the bed as her knees buckle and drop her weight onto it. Her eyes find the window as she stares out at it.

Hours later her husband returns, smelling of sex. She wishes he smelled of liquor as well but he is sober when he fucks her and that makes it all the worse. She's in a nightgown, her hair still damp from the shower she took and there is a bandage over the bite mark on her shoulder. It is too late, or too early really, for him to take a shower and he must really think her a fool if he imagines she does not smell the perfume that stains his shirt. He changes and moves towards her in the darkness and the bed dips under his weight as he settles himself next to her. She holds herself still as he looks at her before something in her snaps. Her fingers streak up and rip the bandage away before her husband can pull back, before he can pretend not to see what is blazed on her shoulder. She turns to face him and finds an unexpected coil of delight as she sees the confusion in the bastard's eyes.

"I'm fucking Ulquiorra," she announces pushing herself up on her hand, "I'm his now," she elaborates and feels no shame at the admission, "go to sleep, we can take to a lawyer in the morning."

* * *

**I have no excuse for the smexyness except that I couldn't keep writing my other work with all that damn sexual tension. **

**Hope you enjoyed!  
**

**Please review! **


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